away, “Shoo! Shoo! Get out of that! Fine, here, have this.”
She tossed a finger out onto the grass.
Heading to the laundry, she fetched the broom and shovel and swept him up as best she could. The teeth were the most annoying as they kept rattling about here and there, scooting over the tiles to lodge themselves into crevices and corners.
Eventually, when the solid pieces were either swept up or thrown into the back garden for the ants, she fetched the mop and sopped up whatever was left. By ten o'clock she was wringing out the last of his fluids down the drain, opening the windows to let the warm night dry the floor. She put his unopened beer back in the fridge, pushed the chair back into position and turned the television on.
“Damn you, Henry,” she grumbled, making herself a cup of coffee, opening a packet of Tim-Tams and sitting back down on the couch, “Damn you!”
Atlas, Broken Page 13