Moving Day

Greta paused, expecting her ex-husbands presence to echo off the walls and ceiling, magnifying in the now-empty space. 

Their argument over the paint color started as a joke.  Truly there wasn’t much difference between steel and dove, especially when they weren’t planning to change one brush stroke on the smooth walls.

But his voice had grown petulant, fading into uncomfortable silence as they shifted a couch and armchairs and her small Parsons desk into a workable configuration.  He slunk away as she poured wine, leaving her to settle into a cream IKEA armchair in the dusk, looking through the south window alone.

Today, freed from their cages beneath comfortably low couches, dust bunnies crept along white baseboards, scarred from lack of care with wayward shoes and table legs.

Grooves from her desk chair marred the birch floor, highlighted, along with dancing flecks of dust, by the sunlight streaming through the sole window.

“Ready?” Drew spoke from the doorway.

“What would you call these walls?” she asked cautiously, though they were past the point of tests.

 

“They’re grey, Gee,” he grinned simply.

 

Silently, she took his hand, pulling the door closed, leaving dust bunnies in peace.

the prompt:

This week we asked you to take us somewhere. Where was up to you -fiction or creative nonfiction- but we asked you to use your words to paint the setting as vividly as possible. In 200 words.

Interested? Read more of Greta's story.