Lady in Waiting

135 words in 10 minutes
“This time,” she raged in her head. “I’m going to let that motherfucker really have it.” The fish, at first a beautiful slick filet, now looked tired lying next to a pile of wilting scallions. Tomatoes, picked fresh from the garden just this afternoon, sat in a soggy pile, juice leaking into hill of droopy basil. “Fuck him. Fuck this dinner. I’m done.” Two hours late without even calling. A meeting, no doubt. Got caught up on X. A last minute phone conference with the West coast. “Who fucking cares,” she yells at the door, behind which a car is pulling up in the driveway, the engine drowned out by her voice. Two minutes later the door opens and he walks through. “Honey,” she exclaims with delight. “I was just putting the fish on.”