Season of Red (Hour 7: using prompt)

“I reckon’ it’s time”
he says
standing up from the table.

I watch him go out the door
his back
disappearing into the dawn.

I set the dishes in the sink
his on top
turning on the water flow.

I make circles with the rag
his lunch
already planned in my mind.

I slip off my apron
his favorite
and let it fall to the ground.

I place a bright red apple
his disgust
on that plate

and leave, with
the door hanging open

Copyright 2020, SashaS




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