The woman wears a moth-gray blanket. Her head is a pale bubblegum jar. When I won’t look or give, she grips my leg, her fingers frail as flower stems. “Please,” she says. “Anything. I’ll take anything.”
At home my wife has fixed my favorite meal. “Happy Anniversary,” she says, kissing me across the table.
Steam mists under her neck. A mound of noodles and meat stares at me as I stare back.
Len Kuntz is a writer from Washington State, USA. His work appears widely in print and online. He’s also an editor at the online lit journal Metazen. You can find him at http://lenkuntz.blogspot.com.