Clarity Amidst Chaos

    Oh shit! Alan took two steps back, was it repulsion? His pupils were dilated; his eyes wide, alert-nervous. His hands began to tremble and he dropped the wrench. It fell with a clang, cracking the ceramic tile, but Alan didn’t hear it.

    He put his hands to his face, his skin was slick with sweat. He could feel his damp dress shirt, a heavy weight with the sleeves rolled up: a happy accident from working on the sink. Some blood clung to the hairs of his forearms. He stared just ahead at the body of his dead wife.

    She stared too, blankly looking up. Her jaw was broken, teeth cracked. A couple teeth were on the tiles, being followed by small speckles of blood. A larger pool of it was moving in their direction. The red of the blood and the white of the teeth were pronounced by the grey tile beneath them. There was a smell of rust in the air.

    It was an accident, Alan thought as he looked down at the wrench on the floor. Some blood was visible on the side of its head. More blood. Now he was really going to have to get the sink working better. He would need the water to clean this up, the blood. All of it seemed to pulse, radiate. It all seemed like a beacon to Alan, a bright banner of celebration rippling in the breeze.

   It was an accident, he thought again. He said it out loud to himself like a chant. If he said it enough he could believe it. He looked at her body, and he couldn’t stop himself: he smiled. His grinning lip rippled with a giggle, and then he laughed. She had it coming and he couldn’t pretend any different. He didn’t plan this, but he sure as hell wanted it. Now all he had to do was to figure out how to plant reasonable doubt that fact, and fix the sink. At least now he could work in peace.