Crossing Seasons – Strike One

Jacob and Deborah

Jacob and Deborah

“I only asked for a new frame,” Deborah lamented when she entered the writing room. “What on earth did you-?”

Jacob looked over his shoulder, screwdriver clenched between his teeth, sleeves soaking wet. “The frame you picked for the painting was all wrong, and worn, and…well, it fell apart. A few pieces earned me two-points, by basketball standards, not that the goldfish liked it.”

Deborah looked from the fish tank to his arms and then pointed to the burnt out light. “Uh huh.”

“Went to move the tank, but that bench is crappy. Did you know the paint’s faded on the wall where-?”

“Uh huh,” she repeated, staring down at the remains of her writing bench.

“Went to plug in the drill, to fix the other problem I found, with the stand the fish sit on and blew a fuse.”

“Don’t tell me you’re planning on painting, dear. That’s why I hang up pictures, so you don’t have to paint, not after last time.”

Jacob made a face. “Do you want a frame for this or not?”

“Nah, you’re fired, old man. First strike. Get out.” She pushed her husband out of her sanctuary turned puzzle room, wondering how a simple request could go so wrong.

 

(The above was inspired by a Daily Post Prompt)

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