Monday, June 22, 2015

capitulation of color

Ecru, taupe, and muddied mauve, the room was a capitulation of color.

“Eating mints is something to do,” he suggested.

“But do we have anymore?” she asked without looking to the crystal candy dish.

The metronomic tic of the estate’s great clock, clicked slowly relentless.

“Afraid we do not, dear,” he informed her.

Dust sifted down, newly freed from his manicured chin.

“Must we do something?” she pondered aloud.

Despondent mice slowly gnawed the doily beneath her dried away, afternoon tea.

“Don’t suppose we must. Just might be dreadfully long, otherwise.”

Neither of them moved when the lathe and plaster began to warp and rot away.

His final words slipped out like a whisper as his heavy head lolled uselessly to the side.

“Oh, s’pose we do have mints, after all.”

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