She spent hours looking for the perfect sink. Farmhouse sinks with enamel apron fronts, vintage cast iron with attached drainboards, stainless restaurant-grade utility sinks. She wanted a little style, she told him, a little upgrade to what had rusted and leaked. She loved the double basin matte black on sale but it might be too wide for the space. She could see herself washing dishes in the signature copper undermount, or rinsing lettuce over the double off-set bowl of sparkling granite. She had spent too much time on this, she knew, but she was getting close to making a decision. What he heard was chatter, chatter, Sink! chatter, chatter. The sky darkened in the west, cloud formations changing quickly, possible rain, possible sun blowing in. Sink, she wanted a sink. Yes, he was listening. Just as soon as he was done digging this drain; he wanted to see how it worked in the upcoming maybe rain. Clouds. Sink. Dinner. Chatter, chatter, sink. Afterwards, he got in the truck, drove to Farm & Home Supplies under the glowering sky, picked out the second cheapest sink, a nice sink, brought it home, installed it. Voilà, sink. No chatter. No kiss. No thanks for his purchase, his hard work, his installation. A slammed door. The end.
Wendy BooydeGraaff’s work has been published in Critical Read, Across the Margin, Jellyfish Review, Litro Online, and elsewhere, and is forthcoming in matchbook, Flash Frontier, and NOON.