Jacqueline T. Lynch
Copyright 2011, 2015 Jacqueline T. Lynch
All rights reserved by the author. Unauthorized copying is prohibited.
Originally published in Grasslimb, and on Dana Literary Online
She popped a lemon drop into her mouth, and sucked with impotent rage because they were not speaking. Again.
Not speaking had been a punishment before it became a habit. Susan wanted very much to tell him what she thought of his plans to spend the weekend fishing on his brother's boat, of all his failures, but they were not speaking.
The lemon drop suddenly lodged in her throat. Her brain snapped to attention. She was choking. Her body tensed in panic. He was upstairs typing misspelled replies to similar simple-minded responses in a chat room.
Susan fell to her knees, limply trying to pound her chest. She foresaw her covered corpse on the 11 o'clock news, discussion by radio talk show callers, a segment on trash TV: Women Who Choke on Candy While Their Husbands Are Online.