Mrs Maberry clutched her coat tighter, pressed the door bell and waited. Faint murmurs of TV filtered through the door. That meant Jonathan was home from work. She held her smile and waited.
A minute passed and her smile faltered. She pressed the doorbell again and followed it with a firm knock. Surely Jonathan couldn't have forgotten she was visiting that evening.
Then she heard voices. She stepped closer to the front door and pressed her ear against it.
“Babe, the door,” said Jonathan, his voice muffled like he was eating.
“Your legs broken?” Janice, his wife, replied. Her voice was steady, and almost gentle as though talking to a stubborn child.
Shuffling sound followed. “What?”
“Yeah. The door is right there,” Janice said calmly.
Mrs Maberry sighed with irritation and knocked loudly.
“Why are you being difficult? You're closer to the door. Just open it,” Jonathan said, his voice rising.
“Jon, I cook and clean around the house. I barely catch a break. Now, I'm relaxing with a book and you still want me to get the door? What are you? My king?”
“For goodness sake, it's not that serious, Janice.”
“No, tonight it is,” her voice sharpened. “I'm not your maid. Get the door yourself!”
Mrs Maberry heard footfalls and then the door handle turned. Jonathan froze when he saw who stood on the porch. He realised his mother had heard their exchange.
She scowled at him. “I'm disappointed in you, Jonathan Matt Maberry.”
I hope you enjoyed reading this short piece. It's inspired by the Freewrite #dailyprompt phrase "I'm not your maid".
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Image credit: Sunriseforever