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Vessels
by Lindsay Brand A midsize apartment with blue walls. Many porthole windows to the outside where the January wind brushes past. He spoons cereal from the bowl to his mouth. Captain Crunch. The television runs in the background flashing SpongeBob Squarepants. She plops down at the other end of the sofa. "I feel like you don't care about me anymore." The pineapple dwelling place of the honorable sponge man looks appealing despite its inhospitable, spiny nature. "Why did you marry me if you didn't want to talk to me?" A chill passes through his spine. He feels like this has happened before. He opens his mouth to respond to tell her he loves her and wants to tell her everything that has happened. That she has nothing to worry about. That watching Spongebob on the chilly leather couch with her is the best part of the day. But the words catch in his throat and bubble up incomprehensibly. He can see the scales of love shedding from her eyes. His sugared milk dives over the side of the bowl as he lurches forward. "Are you going to clean that up or am I going to have to do it?" He sets the porcelain caldron on the coffee table by the National Geographic and goes to look for a sponge in the sink that will never soak up all the discord uttered already so early on a Saturday morning. He presses it to the floor as she settles into a recliner across the room by the glass of the balcony door. Then he tries words again feeling like a goldfish miming to another in a separate tank. |
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