Domestic theater - A story of weekend freewrite

Tears by Victoria_Borodinova

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Domestic theater

Kurt was a huge, comfortable man, whose body dropped fast into any inviting spaces. His manners were clumsy, if I had to find a resemblance to someone from a television series, I would say he was very close to the German Monster.

And, although it seemed like a macabre joke, one of those that are invented more to make you laugh than to scare you, Kurt had the slow, deep voice of the character, even the silly laugh.

To some, he was the good Kurt, but he had a dark side, he was the assistant of a psychopathic guy who supposedly worked miracles on big girls.

He didn't choose the targets, the other guy did, usually fat girls, but he completed the abusive work of the other guy who kidnapped them and didn't consult. He left them to "die" of hunger for two days and the third day he abandoned them so that Kurt could finish what he thought was poetic justice: making the girls thinner by reducing not only their intake but also other excesses. For example, low self-esteem, because Kurt took care of that with long, slow speeches.

They were a very selective dynamic duo with healthy intentions at the end of the day, because they helped readjust an inadequate lifestyle in the girls who, according to their invention, would end up being grateful for their intervention.

She thought: What a tremendous lot I have failed to think through! Yet I always thought I though through things so well!

His wife never imagined that behind his good looks, there was a champion of justice fighting for something he thought was good. But, an indiscretion slipped in the form of some blond hairs on the shoulder of his shirt, received when he prevented one of the girls from collapsing to the ground. For his wife, it was proof of a romantic slip and she couldn't believe it, as Kurt was very discreet about that sort of thing.

In so many years together, he never gave her anything negative to feel, except that tend to fall asleep at the wrong times and in the wrong places, as long as there was a padded surface.

If she had been told that he spent hours torturing hungry, submissive girls with his slow voice and his honeyed speeches about self-control and self-love, she would never have believed it, because he was the most out of control she knew. But she didn't know and wouldn't know, because, at the moment, she only had in her head theaters of infidelity that she had never imagined before.

From that moment on he became a kind of professional spy. She followed not only his slow movements around the house but also his scents. Now, she would check it out and smell it discreetly when she came back from the street.

Then, on one of those days when he had returned without her noticing, he went upstairs to take a bath with a new soap that he had bought on sale at the Pharma all around the corner. And, by the time his wife discovered that he was home sound asleep on the corner sofa, the smell of freshly bathed was still fresh.

She sniffed at him like a hunting dog and a whiff of strong-smelling soap almost suffocated her. Her reaction was overwhelming. Thinking about it later, she doesn't know where she got the strength to shake him and hit him in the face with all the rage contained for so many days. And Kurt, visibly dismayed, could not connect the image of his wife with the aggressor.

In his head, other names, other faces, especially those of the girls he was "helping", paraded. But, after sharpening his gaze he saw well that it was her, his wife from whom he never expected such abuse. He confronted her, his gaze was injected from the shock, and she said him in the face:

"I know you're with a bitch, the soap gave you away!" And he, without leaving his astonishment, faster than ever answered: "You didn't like the soap, so you hit me?"

"You were in a hotel with a bitch?", she shouted at him indignantly.

And still not understanding, he just said: "Don't you like the soap? Is it bad? It doesn't matter, we threw it away, its price is too low, they almost gave it away at the corner."

And, seeing him so helpless and "out of focus", he ended up accepting that there was no villain or character actor in his domestic theater.

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Cat

By Zeleira Cordero @zeleiracordero

01/03/2020

For your kind reading, THANK YOU

In response to @mariannewest on Weekend Freewrite.

The prompt of each section of the story is highlighted in bold. If you are interested, find out here

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