Fruits of Insanity

winning an argument

“Stop it,” she said, and the sharpness of it made him snap his mouth closed. “Stop trying to confuse me with counter accusations. You’re late. You stink of perfume. It isn’t mine. Whether I hacked your smart phone is beside the point.”

“Don’t you trust me?” The wounded accusation on his face made her swell with indignation.

“No.”

“Then you don’t want to know the entirely innocent reason I was late? It involves the perfume counter at the department store and twenty-seven stitches in my shoulder and hip.”

She glared at him, noticing his bandages for the first time, but hated the feeling that she might lose the argument. “Why didn’t you call me?”

He pointed at the phone that she had been waving at his face five minutes before.

“Oh,” she said. In a rather smaller voice she added, “well, I’m sorry I called you a philandering cad,” he opened his mouth, but before he could say anything she continued, her wrath rekindling, “but what were you doing at the perfume counter anyway? Have you been seeing Marie again?” And the tirade continued.

word count: 184