She opened the door to a small refrigerator and moaned. I looked over her shoulder and saw the reason. Inside was a gallon of milk, an assortment of colorful fruits, some of them unfamiliar and rows of bottled water. I didn’t see a soda can anywhere.
“What am I going to do without Diet Crush? Or Diet anything?” She slammed the door closed.
I re-opened the door and helped myself to a juicy looking peach. “We can go buy some diet at the store tomorrow. I’m sure we’re not trapped here or anything.”
“Whatever.” She opened a couple of cabinets, but didn’t find any of her four food groups available; fast, frozen, boxed or sugared.
Juice ran down my chin from the peach and it was too dark for me to find a napkin. “Get me a paper towel or something.”
She rummaged in a drawer and found a towel. By which time I had already tried to wipe off the juice with my hand, resulting only in more stickiness in more areas than when I began.
“You should try one of these peaches. I’ve never eaten a juicier fruit.”
I heard her exhale loudly and then she turned to face me. “I think that old lady’s right. We need to go to bed.”
“Yeah, I am tired.” I walked to the sink and threw the pit inside since I couldn’t see where a trashcan was. “Do you know where I put my whiskey?”
I looked at her. “What?”
“Did you just ask me where you put your whiskey?”
I almost started laughing. “That’s ridiculous. I said I was tired. You’re such a dork.”
“I think you’re more tired than you realize if you can’t remember what you said.”
“I do remember what I said and it had nothing to do with whiskey. Come on; you know I hate the taste of that stuff anyway.”
How are your WIPs?? I'm actually way behind and I may have even posted this excerpt before. I am learning how to juggle all of the responsibilities of working odd hours, taking kids to school, blogging, facebooking, tweeting, and writing. Sheesh!
Hope your week is going well!