Jewel had found the rough little dohickey among her dad’s things after his death a few years ago and kept it with her as a sort of lucky charm. Now, she jiggled the thingamabob in her pocket as she often did whenever she felt her temperature rising.
She was sure Kelvin knew he would get her blood pressure up if he kept pressing her about this issue again. They’d been together now for over 25 years and there was one thing they’d never been able to agree on. She’d told him often enough that she would not discuss it anymore. They’d each had their say and now she was done with it. Obviously, he wasn’t. He’d begun the subject just as he’d always done by asking her why she’d made that particular decision all those years ago.
As he continued to push her to comment, she twisted the dojigger between her fingers at a faster and faster pace. Its rough edges distracted her as they tore at the skin on her hands and caught at loose strings in her skirt pocket. She was happy for the distraction. She didn’t want to be forced to answer him.
He always did this to her. He would press and push until she became too hot for her fury to be contained. Then she would boil over and her anger would know no bounds. She thought,” he will not be satisfied until he’s worked me into an angry ball of fire,” which she knew she would unleash with a torrent of heated words and incendiary accusations.
She took the whatchamacallit from her pocket and impulsively threw it at him hitting him squarely on the upper arm. “Whydyadothat?” he yelled.
“Because I don’t want to talk about this,” she yelled back at him as she turned and left the room.
Check here for more creative writing prompted by the photo of the whatchamacallit.