So I sent my bf this screenshot of a tweet:
Twitter user @justmommabee:
The term domestic housewife implies that there is a feral housewife and now I have a new life goal.
After which he reacted with a 😆 and proceeded to type a reply...
It took him a few minutes to do so. I thought he still had a lot to say from a heart to heart talk earlier until I received this:
Somewhere in the piercing darkness of my own home, two glints of red hung from the ceiling. They quickly retracted into a hole in the ceiling, that I swear to god I already fixed last week. Sometimes I wonder why I married her.
I flick on the lights in the kitchen, and this creature, hair unkempt for three weeks, hisses at me before darting out of the room. I hear the footsteps scurry up the stairs and straight into our bedroom.
There, on the kitchen top, was a fresh bowl of soup.
I find a spoon and sit down. I scoop up a bit of soup and a mushroom floating in it. Did mushrooms float in soup? Well, it smells okay, anyway.
I slurp a bit of it. It tastes good.
A shriek comes from the eyehole in the ceiling.
I look up and make eye contact with the bloodshot eye peering at me. It shyly retreats and perhaps scurries into the closet again.
She doesn't normally act this way, but then I realized...
She's very easily flustered.
Mhmm, I definitely love her.
Iirc this is flash fiction. He's a writer so he does this in our chat to practice, and each time, I am in awe. So yeah... I love and support him to bits.
gummygunk
blakekathryn
theartofmadeline
janainaart
