Paige stood at the stove, heating oil, adding chopped vegetables and chicken, stirring to make sure everything was cooked perfectly. The rice needed a little more time and she hoped Dennis was late. His anger could escalate quickly, especially if he’d had a “bad” day.
The bruise where he’d last kicked her stomach was fading but she feared for the baby he didn’t want. Her hands shook as she set the table, cleaned the kitchen, hid ingredients away.
After they began eating, Dennis clutched his throat. She moved out of reach as he struggled for breath. “Peanuts?” Paige nodded. “Oil.”
My theme this year is 100 word fiction. (So, no, don’t count this line!)