This is a short I wrote a while back. It has a kind of partner, which I’ll post later on. See what you think…
It started with an observation. A pile of stuff blighted her view.
‘How awful it would be’ she thought ‘if I were moving house and had to pack all this. Box after box of unclassified junk. Crap’. The more she looked, the more she saw.
Rummaging beneath the sink brought forth a bin bag. In it went anything in the drawing room that lacked a home and any post unopened and over a month old.
Next came the kitchen; unused equipment was placed in a box and into the back of the car. Out of date food, binned. Cupboards, scrubbed.
Then the bathroom where bottle after scummed-up bottle of unguent vanity found its way into the wheelie bin outside. When the bin would no longer close, the car took over, awaiting a trip to the recycling centre.
She went at it, faster and faster; more and more ruthless sparing only the books on the shelves, the paintings on the wall and the furniture in the rooms. The more she cleared, the lighter she felt.
By nightfall, she was sweating, breathless and dizzy with relief. A quick shower was followed by the careful layering of thermals covered by light, tough clothing. Boots and a crash helmet completed the picture. Moments later, the engine of the bike roared into life and she was gone.
When he came home, a while later, it was to a spotless house, supper in the oven and a forwarding address.