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A way to the Heart

01 Apr

She could do this…surely.  I mean, how hard can it be to make bread but she was determined to try something else out of the usual realm to get his attention.  Perhaps adding a box of raisins and a little cinnamon would be the trick to make him look up over his newspaper and actually say something positive to her at breakfast. This rut in which they were stuck had to cease and desist.  The daily breakfast routine, a slice of  toasted white bread with pale lukewarm coffee could become a direct reflection of the state of their lives.  Bland and boring.

Trying to engage him in conversation at 7 a.m. was next to impossible and she had just resigned herself to a morning routine of rolling her eyes at the ceiling thinking, “Geez, is this all there is to my life?    She was afraid that the monotonous start of day would start to spiral into the rest of the hours of her life and she was tired of being ignored, especially at first daybreak.  First encounters, either daily or out of the blue, should be well,  if not inspiring,  at least not be depressing.

These early years of their lives together should not have deteriorated this rapidly.  Was it her fault?  She thought she had done everything right;  the saran wrap greeting at the door, the wine and candlelit dinners, and of course the aerobics in the darkness of the night.  So what was the deal with this being ignored at breakfast?

She finished kneading the bread with loving care.  Maybe the aroma of it baking early in the morning would jolt him back.  Memories of desire and yearning, yes, that could be a good thing.  Didn’t they say the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach?  It was worth a try.  June covered the bread with a cloth to let it rise overnight and went to set her alarm for 5am to insure the wafting of aromas would wake him gently in the morning.

” Well”, she thought,  “at least if she didn’t get a positive reaction from Ward , at least Beaver and Wally will like it.”

http://thinkingten.ning.com     Thursday – A first encounter. A box of raisins.

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Posted by on April 1, 2010 in Quick Fiction

 

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