Last week, when I left a cup ring on the dining room table, I thought she was going to hit me; she screwed up her hands into tight, white fists, her face reddening as her knuckles paled. I waited for her to speak, to shout, to throw things around, but she never did. The anger burst out of her and long streams of tears washed down her cheeks, dripping onto the linoleum as she shook from sobbing.
Afterwards, she scrubbed the floor with a short-haired brush and lemon-scented bleach.
Rebecca L. Brown specialises in horror fiction, although her writing often wanders off into other genres and gets horribly lost. To find more of Rebecca’s work, visit her blog http://bewilderingcircumstances.blogspot.com/