Devonne Brown

“I know it’s not much, but I’ve been saving this for the apocalypse,” Traci dumped her bag on the dining room table. A ball of twine, a box of matches, a straight razor, scissors, a bottle of valium, and a loaded pistol. 

“This isn’t the apocalypse, the pipes are backed up. We have to call in the plumber. It’s a bigassed inconvenience, but it’s not the end of the world. Where did you get a pistol? Is that thing loaded?” Jim’s eyes were dinner plates of disbelief. 

“Where’s the money coming from to fix this shit?” As far as Traci was concerned, the world was ending. There was no way out of this problem. They couldn’t fix it. 

“We just need to call the plumber. This is nothing,” Jim reached for the phone.She reached for the valium and the straight razor. 

“This house is falling apart. We can’t live like this anymore. I can’t live like this anymore. I won’t. It’s the beginning of the end. Don’t you see? It’s not going to get better, it’s going to get worse. Everything is going to get worse,” Traci’s eyes were glassy. Jim picked up the pistol and emptied it of its ammunition. 

“How long have you had this thing? I thought you hated guns,” Jim saw high strung go to crazy in nothing flat. 

“There’s nothing like the joys of home ownership,” she said.