An unwanted lump had formed in his throat. Sweat slicked his haphazardly trimmed mustache, the hairs of which seemed to recoil from what he observed. In fact, there was not a single part of his body that did not appear to be shaking in the desire to run as far and fast as was possible. It felt wrong to stay.
Just a day ago, the man had maintained a happy relationship with the world. He had laughed at a joke while speaking to the local grocer, took his produce back home to store for the coming week, and had kissed his wife. Everything had seemed so clear, so hopeful.
Now, no hope. Now, no clarity.
His eyes could not stop retracing the outline of what lay on the kitchen counter. Oak-laminated columns rose to support the granite counter top, all bearing down on the man's now-frail psyche. Unbidden and unwanted, his foot shuffled forward into the wood, and his hand came down slowly upon his great mistake.
He had forgot to put the eggs in the refrigerator.
His screams pierced the morning grey, startling a nearby dog and giving the commuters pause. None would forget those cries.
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