MORNING RUN
Mary-Jane always believed that her morning run was the perfect way to start the day. Her husband, Malcolm, thought otherwise and soon began to resent those early morning intrusions into his sleep.
This morning was no different. Mary-Jane heard the music from the radio alarm clock. 6 o'clock. Malcolm groaned from his side of the bed. A weak “Fucking clock” was heard. She ignored the comment and began dressing. Within minutes, Mary-Jane was out the door; her run underway.
Now awake, Malcolm stirred under the blankets, scratching his balls and thinking about how to make his wife interested in a morning of sex instead of those fucking runs and work. Minutes later he was in the kitchen preparing coffee and his breakfast. Twenty minutes passed by and Malcolm began writing in his journal. But, the words would not come out and he decided to have another coffee instead.
Forty minutes had elapsed and Malcolm began to wonder why Mary-Jane hadn't returned. He finished his now cold coffee and began his morning bathroom routine. Looking in the mirror, Malcolm saw that his gray hair had invaded his chest. Age was catching with him and he knew it. If only they had succeeded in having children. Then, he would have a son to play catch with or even a daughter to give away at her wedding. He sighed knowing it was not to be in this lifetime.
Almost ready to dress for work, Malcolm noticed that the TV converter clock showed 7:25. Where was Mary-Jane? For no apparent reason, he decided, then, to have a look around the block. After putting on an old pair of work jeans, Malcolm began to tie his running shoes. As the clock on the fireplace mantel rang 7:30, Malcolm became part of an exploding two story house. Fire and rescue crews never found Mary-Jane.
• Mike Montreuil lives in Ottawa (Canada) and although he is a regular IS&T contributor, he has only recently begun writing flash fiction.
