Frunk

Frunk’s wife had left him and he decided to paint house. He moved all the furniture to the center of the room and covered it in nylons. Now that she was gone he would paint it in the same yellow color his parent’s house in Germany was painted. He wanted to get the first coat of white on quickly so he took big steps. Feeling a coldness on his foot his looked down and saw he had stepped in the paint bucket.

“Shy ze!” He cursed. Tears began streaming down his face. She would always hold the bucket when he painted and walk along with him.

He looked around for a towel of some sort. There was one hanging on a chair. He tried moving towards it tripped and fell slamming into the front door and knocking it open.

Face flat on the front porch he raised himself up feeling the paint wetting his pants and shirt underneath him. There was a big circle in the grass. The mowing machine was there and not in the shed. This was peculiar. Someone had taken his mowing machine out of the locked shed and made a circle in the grass. A circle. It looked so strange. All the rest of the lawn was straight lines. He always mowed perfect back and forth lines. And now this circle. It made him laugh.

He got up and walked towards it. It made him feel lighter somehow. Images of his you youth began springing into his mind.
He felt a joy he had not felt in decades. “I have become a Spießer. It’s time for change. sich verändern.”