Romance wasn't Dead, But It Might Be Now

NEW PROMPT:
Arriving home from work you find music playing, the delicious smell of dinner cooking in the oven, a candlelit table set for two, and a dozen red roses on the counter. The only problem? You are single and live alone. Write the STORY or POEM.

Romance Wasn’t Dead,
But It Might be Now

     Marci pulled her gun out of its holster, cocked the gun, then used it to scan her apartment. She started with her living room. “WHO ELSE IS HERE?” Marci shouted.

     After the living room, Marci walked into her kitchen and suddenly stopped. “What’s that delicious smell?” Marci walked over to her stove constantly glancing all around her as she did it. She considered a pot of bubbling water.

     “That’s not it.” Marci looked over at the countertop next to the stove and saw three potatoes.

     Marci bent down and squinted to peek into the glass door of the oven. Then took a deep breath. “That’s it.”

     “Homemade meatloaf. That’s one of my favorites.”

     “Who knows I love meatloaf. Especially, homemade meatloaf. Only a few people know that.”

     Marci stared at it for several seconds before standing up. “That’s about halfway done.”

     “I’d say it has about twenty minutes left before it’s done.” Marci pointed her swaying weapon in front of as she left the kitchen.

     After entering a small dining room, Marci suddenly stopped again. In front of her, Marci saw a burning candle in the center of a two-chair table set for two. “WHO’S HERE. YOU DO KNOW THAT I’M A COP, DON’T YOU?”

     Marci didn’t say anything for several minutes. She just cocked her head slightly opposite the direction she faced. First, toward a door that led back into the apartment. Then through a door into a bathroom that Marci barely saw as a bathroom. And finally, back to the kitchen.

     “What’s going on here?” Marci walked around the table, turned, and stopped just before she reached the bathroom. She did a quick peek inside. No one was there.

     After taking another peek into the bathroom, Marci walked toward the other door. Just before leaving the dining room Marci heard a hissing sound. Marci ran into the kitchen and turned off the now boiling pot. Then she grabbed the hot pot handle and moved it to the next burner.

     Marci swung around and turned on her water faucet. Then stuck her very red hand under the water. She kept it there for about a minute before pulling it out and turning off the water. As she started turning back toward the living room door, Marci saw them. There was a vase full of red roses sitting on the island counter next to the door leading in there.

     “Were those there when I got home from work?” Marci walked over and pointed her finger at each one as she counted the twelve roses.

     After just staring at those roses for about a minute walked back into the living room. That’s when she heard romantic music playing from a door against the side wall where the front door was. “Now, I know that wasn’t playing when I got home.”

     Marci slowly headed for that door with her weapon leading the way. She dived into her bedroom, rolled into a crouched position and aimed her gun at her bed. On that bed, a female was there under the covers. Marci glanced down and saw her clothing on the floor beside her bed.

     “It’s about time that you got here. I thought we would have a quickie before we ate our anniversary dinner.”

     “Brenda, what are you doing here? Why didn’t you answer me when I shouted if anyone else was here, twice?”

     “That’s because I didn’t hear you. I was listening to my music until I heard you in the kitchen. Had the headphones on because I know you don’t like my kind of music. When I heard, you were home I put on the romantic music.”

     “Are you finished babbling? You do that all the time when you are nervous about something. That’s one of the reasons why we broke up.”

     “We didn’t break up. You just stopped calling me, answering my phone calls, my email, and my texting. I finally got tired of waiting and decided just to show up here to surprise you. After all, this is our anniversary.”

     Marci glanced at the gun in her hand. “I could have shot you. In fact, I still might. If I did, it would be justified. Not only did you enter my apartment without my permission, but I'm also a cop.”

     “Now who is the one babbling. See, I’m not the only one who does it. You do it when you don’t want to talk about something, like our anniversary.”

     “Brenda, what are you talking about? What anniversary?”

     “This is our sixth month anniversary. I made your favorite to celebrate: Homemade meatloaf, handmade potatoes, macaroni and cheese, and baby carrots. The macaroni and cheese and baby carrots I still need to do. But the rest is almost done.”

     Marci glanced at her hand as she used it to pick herself off the shag carpet in her bedroom. She quickly grimaced in pain. Then she shook it slightly before she looked at the redness. “The rest isn’t almost done. You forgot to turn off the pot for the macaroni and cheese.”

     “Did I do that again?” Brenda’s face started turned almost as red as Marci’s hand. “I did that on, what was it, oh, yeah, our fifth date.”

     “We're not dating anymore. We started dating about six months ago, and four months ago, we stopped.”

     “I know that we aren’t dating now. I’m not crazy. But this is our sixth month anniversary from when we first started dating. And an anniversary is an anniversary.”

Word Count = 913