Cleaning House - Anna Teeples

Scott was not sure what he felt inside. He knew it teetered between sheer rage and extreme sadness but somehow they blurred. He felt the heaviness of the wood handle in his hands as he gripped with two hands. The sledgehammer was all he could think about this morning when he decided he was ready.

Maggie had left a month ago and he knew she was not coming back. They had spent every day together for the last seven years. She had moved in shortly after they had met and it was somewhat effortless. Somewhere along the way she was slowly retreating and he did not even notice. Last month, he came home to find the closet empty and most all the CD’s gone from the mega-hundred collection of favorite genres they both enjoyed.

Scott stared at the white ceramic subway tile walls. He remembered when they had tiled this bathroom in just one weekend impressing themselves with their effort. He pulled the hammer back over his shoulder and swung with all his effort into the pristine tile wall. As he felt a solid thunder of energy release and tile crackle to the ground, he thought about how he had hated the white tiles all along. Why did he agree to such a plain, colorless room anyways? Scott gave that first blow every bit of his deep hatred for the sterile perfection that surrounded him. He needed it to be gone. He was cleaning house. Time for a new beginning, a new bathroom, something that was only about him and not them.