I haven’t worked on any fiction in a very long while, and it’s been eating away at me quite a bit. Tonight I cracked open a short story I had been cranking out last month. A small chunk of it delighted me greatly and I thought I’d share a short excerpt, just because:

     ”Can I have some milk?”
     ”Oh,” he said. “Of course.”
     He pulled the fridge open to reveal nothing of substance. A bottle of ketchup next to a bottle of beer, both half consumed. He knew little of raising kids, but knew enough to recognize that neither were an appropriate replacement for milk.
     She appeared over his shoulder and sighed heavily.
     ”I’ll just take water,” she said.