Lenny had never seen a dead body until he got home from the snooker hall one summer evening and found his wife with her head in the oven.
He suspected a problem when he saw the house in darkness and after fumbling drunkenly with his key to the front door, he smelt the gas.
He hesitated in the dark a moment unsure whether it was safe to switch on the light but decided it was only matches and candles you had to be careful of.
She wore her cheap dreary frock; her only other one was used for ‘best.’ Lenny began to choke and held his breath while he forced open the window to encourage the night breeze into the room. He felt sick and left the kitchen to open the front door to get some air moving to disperse the gas.
He stood in the passageway uncertain what he was supposed to do next. Should he call for an ambulance. No, he knew it was too late for that. The police then. He would have to wake up the old cow next door to use her telephone.
It took many moments before he noticed the body of their six-week-old baby motionless in the kitchen cabinet drawer they used in place of a cot.
Lenny was incapable of thought, except that he had known there would be trouble after his wife found out he had slept with a prostitute the night she was in hospital giving birth to their son.
Words: Richard Rooney
Illustration: A.I.
Flash Fiction 250
Flash Fiction 250 