Spit for Brains

He installed the shelf upside down. Again. “Spit for brains,” muttered Karen, watching Matt wield a drill like it was a medieval weapon. The instructions were clear—pictures and all–but Todd insisted he had “a system.” Now the cat sleeps in the tilted cubby. Maybe it’s modern art. Maybe it’s divorce.

***Faster than a speeding gummy, able to leap small buildings at a single bound Flash Fiction is a guaranteed page turner.