a short story
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Jilly beat steadily, her wooden spoon making ‘schloop – schloop’ noises as it chased the thick mixture around the bottom of her saucepan. Her concentration was not wholly focused on what she was doing but directed at the door at the end of the kitchen. It was tightly shut, his final defence against her. She had to find a way to tell him but how? When? He was playing music, softly, too low for her to hear exactly what it was. Just a dull, ‘thump thump’ in her legs through the floorboards. And that smell. What was it? Incense? Candles? Drugs?