“Something Burning”
Eddie Jimenez sat at the dinner table. He hadn’t even changed out of his work clothes. The table was bare but for two candlesticks in the center. Eddie turned his head as Marcela entered from the kitchen and set down a white, ceramic plate in front of him. She was wearing a yellow dress and her favorite apron with hair tied up into a bun.
“We’re having meatloaf tonight,” Marcela said, smiling.
She placed a wine glass down for him. Eddie took the glass and held it up so that the light caught on its spotless surface.
“Thank you,” he smiled, then felt it fade. Eddie sniffed the air and looked at Marcela.
“Do you smell something burning?”
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Eddie Jimenez sat at the dinner table. He hadn’t even changed out of his work clothes, his tie loose around his neck. The table was bare but for two candlesticks in the center. Eddie turned his head as Marcela entered from the kitchen and set down a plate in front of him. She was wearing a yellow dress, his favorite, with her hair tied up into a bun.
“We’re having meatloaf tonight,” Marcela said, smiling.
She placed a wine glass down for him.
“Thank you,” he said, sniffing the air. He looked at Marcela.
“Do you smell something burning?”
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Eddie Jimenez sat at the dinner table. His work shirt open, his tie loose around his neck, and his shoes kicked across the room. The table was bare as usual. Eddie turned his head as Marcela entered from the kitchen and set down a plate in front of him. She was wearing a yellow dress, his favorite, with her hair tied into a loose bun.
“We’re having meatloaf tonight,” Marcela said.
She set down a beer for him.
“Thank you,” he said, sniffing the air. He looked at Marcela.
“Do you smell something burning?”
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Eddie Jimenez sat at the table. His work shirt open, his tie loose around his neck, and his shoes kicked across the room. The table was bare as usual. Eddie watched as Marcela entered from the kitchen and set down a bare plate. He gazed at her. She was wearing a yellow dress with her hair tied into a loose bun and dressed as she should be.
“Meatloaf tonight,” she said, frowning.
She set down a beer for him.
“I asked for steak,” he said, sniffing the air. He looked at Marcela and grabbed her by the wrist.
“Do you smell something burning?”
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Eddie Jimenez sat at the table. His shirt open and stained, his tie loose, and his shoes kicked across the room. The table was bare as usual. Eddie stared as Marcela entered from the kitchen and set down a bare plate. He stared at her yellow dress and her hair, tied into a loose bun, making sure she was dressed appropriately.
“Meatloaf tonight,” she said, frowning.
She set down the seventh beer.
“I asked for steak,” he slurred. Eddie looked at Marcela and grabbed her by the wrist.
“Why are you missing a button?” he asked, looking at her yellow dress and its missing button. “Why is your hair so loose?”
Marcela trembled. “What are you talking about?” Her eyes were teary.
Eddie’s nostrils flared.
“Is something burning?”
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Eddie Jimenez sat at the table. He hadn’t even changed out of his work clothes. His shirt was open and stained, his tie loose, and his shoes kicked across the room. The table was bare as usual. Eddie stared as Marcela entered from the kitchen and set down a bare plate. He stared at her yellow dress and her hair, tied into a loose bun, making sure she was dressed appropriately.
“Meatloaf tonight,” she said, frowning.
She set down the seventh beer tonight.
“I asked for steak,” he slurred. Eddie looked at Marcela then pulled her by the wrist.
“Why are you missing a button?” he asked, pulling her harder and squinting at her hair.
“What’s that on your neck?”
Marcela trembled and pulled back. “What in the hell are you talking about?” Her eyes were black.
“Show me your neck,” he yelled.
“Stop it, Eddie, you’re scaring me.”
Eddie stood up and threw her against the wall, grabbed his beer slammed it on the ground.
“You’re being irrational,” Marcela said.
“You belong to me and no one else. I’ll burn this whole damn house down if I have to.”
Eddie’s nostrils flared and Marcela watched him.
“Eddie, there’s something burning,” she said.
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Eddie Jimenez sat at the table, still in his work clothes. His shirt was open and stained, his tie loose, and his shoes kicked across the room. Eddie stared as Marcela entered from the kitchen and set down a bare plate. He stared at her singed yellow dress and her hair, tied into a loose bun, making sure she was dressed appropriately.
“Meatloaf tonight,” she said, lips charred around the edges.
She set down the seventh beer that night.
“I asked for steak,” he slurred. Eddie looked at Marcela then pulled her by her cold wrist.
“Why are you missing a button?” he asked, pulling her harder and squinting at her hair.
“What’s that on your neck?” It looked scarred.
Marcela trembled and pulled back. “What in the hell are you talking about?” Her eyes were completely black.
“Show me your neck,” he yelled.
“Stop it, Eddie, not this again.”
Eddie stood up and threw her against the wall, grabbed his beer slammed it on the ground.
“You’re being irrational,” Marcela said, expressionless. Her tongue and lips were black.
“You belong to me and no one else. I’ll burn this whole damn house down if I have to.”
Eddie began to wreck the house. He threw the charred table, knocked over the smoke damaged chairs and ripped the curtains to see nothing but void outside the window. He turned to Marcela, still standing there, smoke wisping off of her shoulders.
“Eddie,” she said. “I’m burning.”
