It Was Bitter

I continued to sip my coffee as he choked to death.

It was bitter - both the coffee and the look on his face.

As I watched him struggle,

I began to wonder what happened to get us to this point.

Maybe it was his continuous nagging,

Or his constant whining that dinner never tasted the way he wanted.

Or perhaps it was the grin on his face,

The one that surfaced whenever he made me angry.

Regardless, here we are.

Him, lying on the ground,

As he is gasping for air,

Gripping my pants leg as if that would help him in this situation.

I suppose I should have called 9-11,

But I hadn't had my coffee first.

It's funny how someone's actions could lead us here.

If only he listened the millionth time I begged him for help.

He knew I was falling apart.

I stopped caring about my appearance,

Probably around the time I stopped eating.

The funny thing is I am hungry now.

I think I will finally make that dinner,

The one I wanted to for weeks now—no more complaining.

Poor sap!

His face is as pale as a ghost.

I am going to have to move him.

Maybe I should add potatoes to the dinner.

Twice-baked maybe?

I should probably move him.

However, I just continued to sip my coffee.