Bring Me Home

Bring Me Home

The mouth-watering aroma of guilt struck Sally’s senses the moment she walked through her front door. Frank was cooking. Not good. He only ever entered the kitchen when he had committed a sin.

Sally sighed as she placed her coat on the peg. She was greeted in the hall with Frank’s inane grin. “Sal, just on time,” said Frank. “Come with me.”

Sally suppressed her annoyance as Frank took her hand and led her through to the dining table. “Ta-dah,” he said with a flourish of smugness. “Do you like it? I’ve been working on it all afternoon.”

For a moment, Sally was speechless. Emotions swirled in her stomach as she drank in the beauty of her plain old dining table. There was a delicate lilac tablecloth, their best silver cutlery and place settings like those Sally only saw in restaurants. It was perfect.

Only, perfect didn’t exist. Sally knew Frank was creeping for a reason. “So, what’s all this about?” she said.

Frank faltered, staring at his hands, which were scrunching, then re-arranging the tablecloth. “Actually, I have something important to tell you.”

Sally pursed her lips and waited. “Just let me speak, Sal, before you say anything. Okay?”

“Right.”

“This is going to sound really weird… I’m pregnant.”

Sally stared at her husband, waiting for the punchline, but none came. “Don’t be ridiculous, that’s impossible!”

“Not on the planet Fyxylon. Where I am from. That thing we did last Monday, that’s how it happens. Honestly, it’s true.”

“Hah! What? No! Get out. Go!” Sally would not listen to this nonsense. There were better ways to break up with someone.

As Frank walked away from his home, he felt the first flutter of baby kicks. He looked to the stars and said, “Omala, bring me home.”

300 words