Friday 22 November 2013

#6 - The Giveaway

When we ripped through the brown paper
we discovered fingers, tearing in the opposite direction.

The look on the stranger's face was one of disappointment.
'What a crap gift,' she said, wrinkling her snub nose
at us and our - admittedly cluttered - living room.

'No,' said my husband. 'You're our gift. We just unwrapped you.'
A standoff ensued, culminating in a sort of straining grapple;
my husband fell backwards and dashed his head on the coffee table.

There was no blood - just a mark where his skull had clipped the corner.
I knelt and kissed his clammy brow.
'Love is the true gift,' I said, in what I hoped was a mysterious, gnomic way,
while we waited for the paramedics.

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