Gale
12-22-2003, 09:38 PM
Caramine carefully plucked up an ant that was struggling to free itself from the bulk of sugar on the scoop. “Ants in the sugar again.” She needed to find a lid for that. Pouring the white grains into the bowl, she stirred it till it mixed with the dark liquid, turning milky and dense. Turning on the stove, she poured the mixture into a pot and set it to boil.
Whistling, she moved about the kitchen, cleaning and straightening. Everything had to be perfectly situated, nothing could be out of place. Caramine bent and inspected the surface of the counter with a critical eye, checking for the smallest crumb, faintest stain. She muttered and scrubbed at the red marks on the counter, but it seemed no matter how she rubbed and wiped, they wouldn’t go away. She’d have to get some cleaner later.
Grabbing a broom she started on the floor. There were the same red marks there, too, but they just seemed to get larger as she swept, so she put the broom away and got down on her knees to wash the vinyl with a wet cloth. Sweat sprouted on Caramine’s brow as she worked, but she simply wiped it away and kept at it. When she seemed to be finished, she stood and inspected the red mottled floor. “As white as the day it was first put down,” she muttered appreciatively, admiring her own skills. “Momma was wrong about me. I can cook and clean with the best of them.”
Feeling a little dizzy, she wiped her brow again and turned to stir her boiling mixture, waiting for it to caramelize. Moving to the sink, she ran some water and started scrubbing her dirty cooking dishes. The pink water swirling around the basin and down the drain mesmerized her for a few moments before she turned the faucet off and placed the mixing bowl precisely in the drainer. She continued washing, swiping moisture from her forehead now and then, mumbling to herself: “Momma was wrong. Wrong. They were all wrong. Everyone wrong. I can do it. I’m strong enough, smart enough. I’m good enough. Momma was wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong...” she continued chanting to herself as she scrubbed the wrong end of a red stained fork.
“Wrong, wrong, wrong....” Perspiration poured down her face and her hands shook. She kept wiping the wrong end of the fork as pink water swirled around and around and around and around until something hard hit her in the back of the head. But Caramine hardly noticed as everything went around and around, a swirl of pink water over her vision, over the ceiling and walls. “Wrong...wrong...wrong....” The ragged remains of her inner forearms swam before her as she reached out, staining the water swirled walls red. The stench of burning blood and caramel filled her nostrils. She had to stir her mixture or it would be ruined. But everything kept spinning, around and around and around and around....
The world shook.
“Momma was wrong....”
Everything collapsed into darkness.
Whistling, she moved about the kitchen, cleaning and straightening. Everything had to be perfectly situated, nothing could be out of place. Caramine bent and inspected the surface of the counter with a critical eye, checking for the smallest crumb, faintest stain. She muttered and scrubbed at the red marks on the counter, but it seemed no matter how she rubbed and wiped, they wouldn’t go away. She’d have to get some cleaner later.
Grabbing a broom she started on the floor. There were the same red marks there, too, but they just seemed to get larger as she swept, so she put the broom away and got down on her knees to wash the vinyl with a wet cloth. Sweat sprouted on Caramine’s brow as she worked, but she simply wiped it away and kept at it. When she seemed to be finished, she stood and inspected the red mottled floor. “As white as the day it was first put down,” she muttered appreciatively, admiring her own skills. “Momma was wrong about me. I can cook and clean with the best of them.”
Feeling a little dizzy, she wiped her brow again and turned to stir her boiling mixture, waiting for it to caramelize. Moving to the sink, she ran some water and started scrubbing her dirty cooking dishes. The pink water swirling around the basin and down the drain mesmerized her for a few moments before she turned the faucet off and placed the mixing bowl precisely in the drainer. She continued washing, swiping moisture from her forehead now and then, mumbling to herself: “Momma was wrong. Wrong. They were all wrong. Everyone wrong. I can do it. I’m strong enough, smart enough. I’m good enough. Momma was wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong...” she continued chanting to herself as she scrubbed the wrong end of a red stained fork.
“Wrong, wrong, wrong....” Perspiration poured down her face and her hands shook. She kept wiping the wrong end of the fork as pink water swirled around and around and around and around until something hard hit her in the back of the head. But Caramine hardly noticed as everything went around and around, a swirl of pink water over her vision, over the ceiling and walls. “Wrong...wrong...wrong....” The ragged remains of her inner forearms swam before her as she reached out, staining the water swirled walls red. The stench of burning blood and caramel filled her nostrils. She had to stir her mixture or it would be ruined. But everything kept spinning, around and around and around and around....
The world shook.
“Momma was wrong....”
Everything collapsed into darkness.