The Waiter

Not that it mattered. Evelyn was the only one who could hear the ruckus she was causing. The cart kept knocking into the wall with each body she loaded onto the dumb waiter. Her fiance, George, with that adorable dimple in his left cheek. It's what first drew her to him all those years ago. Evelyn exhaled slightly, tracing it lightly with her finger before using his suit jacket to move him further into the small space. Her heart twanged a little at the loss. He had been a good man, but he should have trusted her more.

On top of him, his mother, Charlotte. The ashen skin made her make-up even more vivid. Evelyn had the impression that she was a clown, only there was no laughter in her eyes. A sad clown perhaps. A small smile played across Evelyn's lips. Charlotte had kind of acted the clown in this whole mess. She tripped over her final words as if she was wearing big shoes. Evelyn was sure that if she had been wearing a corsage, it would have sprayed water. Charlotte's body folded onto itself as the dumb waiter lowered from the weight.

Finally, came George Senior, ever the clever business man. She was sure it was he had insisted on the pre-nup. But everyone else had agreed, even if it wasn't their idea. Ruefully Evelyn pushed him on top of the pile, the crowning piece of his family and certainly the circumstances in which she found herself tonight. He had grown heavy, not just from his ego, but from the rich pastries he seemed to constantly be eating. His doughy body continued to offer resistance, even after death. Evelyn worked up a sweat. The family loaded in the dumb waiter, she wiped her brow, and with it, any guilt feelings she may have had.

*** Daily Writing Practice ***