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VEGETABLE SOUP
By Nicole Andrews

‘Something is not right’ She said ‘The doves are no longer in love and this spaghetti has no end’

‘What are you on about woman?’ Neville muttered as he tended to his frothing soup. Although he was perfectly capable of turning to see his wife of fifty years, he kept his face to the stove.

Agnus looked at the roots of his silver hair and the way his neck puckered in his shirt. It had been a long time since she had felt those creases. She removed the tray which held the untouched spaghetti from her lap. She lifted herself from the armchair, which had in time grown on her. The faded photograph on top of the television was out of place and Agnus went over to fix it.

‘When the blue sky had turned grey, we should have known’

Neville’s soup was simmering nicely and he added some extra salt. He was used to his wife’s rants and gave no bother to what she was talking about.

‘Monday is not the start but the end. The tracks are dangerous when we don’t know where we are going’

‘I always knew where I was going’ Neville acknowledged softly.

‘But when a thread is at its end, before the stitch is up, what is one to do?’

Agnus put down the photo frame and took one final glance at the two young faces beaming back at her. She remembered that day, Neville had bought his first car. They drove to the country and spent the night in a cheap motel. It was the first time they made love.

Agnus returned to her armchairs embrace.

Neville was content with his soup and went to join Agnus in the living room. His bones made a snapping sound as he sat in his matching armchair, although his was not as worn as his wife’s.

‘Photos can make us see things, that maybe we couldn’t see ourselves’ He said.

‘It is easy to fake a smile’ Agnus replied bluntly.

‘You were happy. We were happy Agnus’

‘We were a pair of bread rolls!’ Agnus said cunningly.

‘Your losing your mind and I am going to bed’

Neville left his chair and then the room.

‘Aren’t we all slowly losing our mind?’ Agnus screeched.