Bobby managed the Krazee Katz Club over on 5th street five days a week, catering to the monied higher class, dance-crazy crowd. He was everywhere, slapping backs, high-fiving, suave, discrete, and allowing a certain amount of minor criminal activity to pass unnoticed.
Connie, hearing the shower from the upstairs bathroom, started breakfast, careful to cook the eggs sunny side up, the bacon to an even crispness, and the toast to medium perfection, inspecting the plate carefully before putting it on the table. Hearing the shower turned off, she quickly surveyed the kitchen for cleanliness and then poured the coffee to place alongside the breakfast plate.
Connie sat tentatively in the chair opposite Bobby, watching for signs, relaxing a little as he appeared to be in a good mood. Connie seeing Bobby finish his coffee ran to retrieve the coffee pot, in her haste to pour she accidentally spilled a drop on his pants, and tensed for what was coming.
Lensdiary 
So good to be reading your blog again.
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Thanks, Gary. I’m happy to be back again.
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I wonder what was coming…?
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Better you don’t know. Look away. Thanks for visiting, Cassa.
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I wonder what’s going on. Poor Connie to be fearful of the tension .
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I think she married the wrong guy.
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ole Bobby’s a bit of a dick, no?*
*love the ‘setting’ though, have a couple of Sixes coming that use a club/cafĆ© /bistro. as settings go, way fun
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Bobby is not a very nice fellow. Looking forward to the club/cafe bistro sixes.
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Oh dear! How angry is he now, and how will he express it? š¬
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While I’m sure Nick has already extended an invitation, allow me to echo him.
Clearly you have both an affinity and experience in such a setting (fictional or otherwise)… please stop by. (Keith is another who has the blessings of life experiences in such… venues lol)
As meta/metaphorical places in a virtual world, the CafƩ has been fun and challenging* The best thing (about such fiction constructs) is how they acquire an increasing permanence and consistency with time and story.
Stop in the next time you find yourself on a side-walked lane off an under-travelled boulevard in a mid-sized city that, while no longer thriving, exhibits in seemingly disconnected neighborhoods the smoldering embers of life. (The exterior, by virtue of being in a section of the city that grew and flourished with the Industrial Revolution) is mostly brick. The entrance is three worn-granite steps down from street level.
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Nice description of the pain of living with someone whose moods get out of control.
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Thanks, Frank. Poor old Connie.
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Nobody deserves a life like that. she’s probably even too scared to walk away.
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I agree, Keith. She keeps thinking Bobby will change. Unfortunately…………
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Well done
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Thanks for visiting, UP
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Oh my! This one resonates with me. Been there…
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Wow, Susan. Not something I like to hear. Bobby is not a very nice guy.
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Well, in my case, it hasn’t been more than a volume of undeserved criticism. Nothing that a calm optimist cannot handle but tiring for sure. š
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Now i’m tense just thinking about it. Yikes!
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Iām sure that one day Connie will see the light and escape from the darkness.
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Well written! The details of her intense carefulness are effective in building up the tension when she does make a mistake.
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Thanks for visiting and commenting, Nicole, I see I have been tardy in my response.
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No worries. š
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