A 100 word shortie.
Saturday
As the roses fall Isabel imagines each frail stem as his neck, snapping under the secateurs. Flowers gathered, she enters the house, dreading the evening ahead.
An unwelcome hand grabs her bottom and whisky breath fills her ear. He totters away, glass poised. She hears liquid pouring and the plop of ice.
Drunk already and it’s only six. Friends coming for dinner at eight. Two hours to get him sober.
Rupert is busy unstoppering the decanters before the door closes, his flushed face darkening as he takes a long swallow.
The choking stops eventually.
That was the rat poison decanter.
Another good one. I'm terrible at doing these 100 word stories. But you're really good,