She wrung his heart out with a sharp sturdy twist until she was satisfied no blood remained.
Slapping the lifeless organ atop a chipped platter pulled from the buffet drawer, she thrust it in his face. Bon Appetit. She smiled with disdain and handed him a freshly polished fork.
Unsure what to do with the dried-up organ, he slowly slid into the high-back chair and placed a napkin on his lap.
Glowing under his confused gaze, she smiled sweetly and slid the platter closer to his chest.
“Don’t be bashful and swallow your pride. Think of it as a 20-year Merlot, perfectly paired with buttered potatoes, a fresh sprig of parsley, and a slab of steak cooked medium-well, just the way you like it.”
His eyes traveled from her to the platter to the gaping hole in his chest.
“It’s a little dry, but it goes well with baseball and booze and silent conversations, don’t you think?”
Tears sprang to his eyes with the first bite. Anger swelled with the second.
His third bite filled her heart with sadness. Remorse with his fourth.
On and on it went until the platter was clean and each chewed morsel found its way back into the empty socket in his chest.
Casey Curtis is a copywriter, editor, and graphic designer for a non-profit organization. She is from the Midwest, but recently moved much further north, resulting in the need to beef up her hat, glove, and scarf collection. Follow her on Twitter @casey_curtis_