|sent from: London, UK. destination: Mountain View, California, USA|
“I’m behind you with a knife.” It was something she said, always repeated when they were both cooking in their cramped kitchen. It only made sense, she had argued; there were too many magazine pieces about the kitchen being the most dangerous room in the house. He smiled at her as she slipped past him with the cutting board.
“You ok?” she asked.
“Fine, fine,” he replied, preparing the meat.
Later, with the kitchen done and the world in its place, he was asleep and she went online. She wasn’t looking for it, it was there in front of her, as though he’d wanted her to find it. Evidence of his trysts – plural. Though not explicit, the negative space described an inescapable truth.
“You ok?” he asked her. They were back in the kitchen at their assigned posts the next day.
“Fine, fine,” she replied.
She stared down at the cutting board and the Japanese knife, both wedding presents. She need to get past him.
The kitchen is a dangerous place.