The Widower: A Fifty Word Story

Double-checking the directions, he measured carefully.

Should he cover the pot? Damn, he missed her.

He watched the water boil away, finally turning the burner off.

Scooping steaming rice onto his plate, he ignored the stuck bits. His wife would’ve been proud. He half-smiled towards her empty chair.

Sorry, you will have to do without discussion of the story this week. I’m not capable. I’ve got quite a migraine and I’m lucky I’ve managed to write anything. Actually I wrote this one in the middle of the night last night then got @thinknzombie to help me edit it after he pushed me enough that I finished the first draft of a large story that’s been hanging over my head.

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