Post your answer, and any feedback to my answer, in the comments below.
For this prompt, I used the Take Three Nouns Generator.
Prompt: failure, town, cradle
My answer: Day after day, I sit in my office on the 12th floor, looking out a streak-free window. Employee of the month for 2 years straight. I come in early. I am the last to leave. Everyone congratulates me and looks up to me. In a life sullied by failure, this kind of success gives me no pleasure.
My husband lies in our bed every day. He doesn’t move, doesn’t speak. There is a stash of dry foods in the cabinet next to the bed along with gallons of water so he doesn’t need to get up. He doesn’t miss me when I am gone and he doesn’t greet me when I return. The house is void of light every evening, but his eyes remain open, peering through the darkness. He just sits for hours. I don’t know if he is even thinking anymore.
I don’t blame him for this. I turn on the light for myself. Every night, I fix myself a small supper and sit on the couch, staring at the remote. It’s been a long time since I have tried to watch something on television. I can’t watch the smiles and laughter. I can’t bear to take part in it. Because, for me, there is nothing to smile about. And I wouldn’t want my husband to hear me laughing from the other room.
It’s a wonder Jerry stays with me at all. I’m sure we both would love to leave this town. Separately. It’s not that I don’t love him anymore. It’s just that he deserves better. He deserves someone who doesn’t disappoint him. Someone who doesn’t go to work early and leave late at night. Someone who didn’t leave him with cabinets in the dark and pockets full of posies.
People tell me everyone makes mistakes. But not everyone’s mistakes result in the ending of the life of an infant. I don’t know how it happened. We were down for a nap. It was only about an hour. Only one of us woke up.
In the days following the incident, endless tears and apologies flooded every space I occupied. But Jerry didn’t want to hear it. He hasn’t spoken to me. Not even to stop me from my excessive attempts of apologizing. The pieces of what we should have been are scattered across every room of the house. All except for one room. The room with the pink walls and an empty cradle.
Scattered Emoceans 