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"Poor baby. You work so hard. I don't know how you do it," Lila said, and slammed the door behind her as she left the house. Through the window next to the door, Barnard watched her--blond ponytail bouncing behind her large, pudgy, jean-and-tee-shirt clad form--stalk down the path to her antique Volkswagon Beetle, get in and tear away, leaving clouds of dry summer dust in her wake. Barnard hmphed. He waddled back through their vintage 1958 kitchen, past the basket of unpaid bills and the sink filled with dishes. At some point, he'd have to tack up the top corner of that NASCAR poster curling down from the basement door, he noted, as he continued back toward the den. He sat down at the desk, fired up "World of Warcraft," and got comfortable. What did Lila care? She was always at the office anyhow. He had a campaign to wage.


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sardonic
1. adj. Marked by scorn, mockery, and cynicism.

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Observation: I don't know if what I'm posting are stories per se. In the fanfic community there's a word that might apply: ficlet, which might be defined as a glimpse into a life, without necessarily including plot. I think I've been posting ficlets more than stories. The point, here, I guess, is that I'm at least striking the flint, which is more than I'm doing at other times during the day. It's something anyway.

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