Appliance Repair
By Phoebe Wilcox
Walking by his appliance repair shop was a coping mechanism that didn’t seem problematic at first until she started dong it every day, several times a day, at all hours, and found herself daydreaming as she walked about some glowing halcyon moment in the future when her washer or dryer would break down—maybe a belt would go, maybe there would be a burning smell, or a loud thumping--but something would stop working properly and then she could bring them down the street to the appliance store where Tim would be wearing those cute blue coveralls and tinkering. Oh, he’d been tinkering all right, tinkering with her heart. She wanted to get lost in his broken appliances like Little Red Riding Hood got lost in the woods. She could see the life-grease of her heart all over his work rags and on the thighs of his pants. Pretty, blue-eyed Tim, a man who liked to tinker. She could sew up a red velvet hood and cape for herself and easily enough make him into a wolf. Or at least she liked to believe she could. In a forest of broken appliances with time documented by slippery, faltering invoices, she would find him and make him her own. Right?
It was so much better than microwaving low-sodium dinners for Grandma, who had Alzheimer’s disease and who would never even notice she was gone, no matter how many days she stayed lost in the woods.
So Little Red skipped. She skipped down the cement walk to the appliance store. The store was dark and closed but there was a pink neon sign in the window that said, “OPEN.” She looked in the window and wondered where Tim was. She missed him.
She looked in the window of the store. There were a few reflections there. A car fender. A streetlight with erratic swirling bugs. And there was her. All out of character and dressed like a fairy tale. Smiling. Frowning. Missing him. Reminding herself of who she really was, and where she was, and what planet she was on
and why she had to turn around and walk home again.
- - -
BIO: I love words, always have, and now I'm finally getting published in places like: Sixers Review, Illumen, Calliope Nerve, Gloom Cupboard, etc. This is putting sparkle in my metaphorical beverage. Acceptances are my effervescence.
By Phoebe Wilcox
Walking by his appliance repair shop was a coping mechanism that didn’t seem problematic at first until she started dong it every day, several times a day, at all hours, and found herself daydreaming as she walked about some glowing halcyon moment in the future when her washer or dryer would break down—maybe a belt would go, maybe there would be a burning smell, or a loud thumping--but something would stop working properly and then she could bring them down the street to the appliance store where Tim would be wearing those cute blue coveralls and tinkering. Oh, he’d been tinkering all right, tinkering with her heart. She wanted to get lost in his broken appliances like Little Red Riding Hood got lost in the woods. She could see the life-grease of her heart all over his work rags and on the thighs of his pants. Pretty, blue-eyed Tim, a man who liked to tinker. She could sew up a red velvet hood and cape for herself and easily enough make him into a wolf. Or at least she liked to believe she could. In a forest of broken appliances with time documented by slippery, faltering invoices, she would find him and make him her own. Right?
It was so much better than microwaving low-sodium dinners for Grandma, who had Alzheimer’s disease and who would never even notice she was gone, no matter how many days she stayed lost in the woods.
So Little Red skipped. She skipped down the cement walk to the appliance store. The store was dark and closed but there was a pink neon sign in the window that said, “OPEN.” She looked in the window and wondered where Tim was. She missed him.
She looked in the window of the store. There were a few reflections there. A car fender. A streetlight with erratic swirling bugs. And there was her. All out of character and dressed like a fairy tale. Smiling. Frowning. Missing him. Reminding herself of who she really was, and where she was, and what planet she was on
and why she had to turn around and walk home again.
- - -
BIO: I love words, always have, and now I'm finally getting published in places like: Sixers Review, Illumen, Calliope Nerve, Gloom Cupboard, etc. This is putting sparkle in my metaphorical beverage. Acceptances are my effervescence.
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