Three
She was painting in her underwear when Robert returned home that night. There was paint dribbled on her shapely legs, arms and even smeared on her face. The paper she laid down to protect the carpet crinkled under her feet. Her hair was a tied-up mess, and also streaked with white and blue paint. She was sweating, pacing back and forth, frustrated by the edge of her own creativity and not sure what to do next.
“f**k this f*****g color!”
“Hello, darlin’,”
“Why are you home so soon?”
“It’s nine o’clock,”
“What…whatever…”
“Are you having problems with your little monsters?”
“That’s what it is. Yes, I’m having problems with my little monsters, Robby!” under her breath: “f*****g Robby…”
“I didn’t mean it like that,”
“The word little. You’re little, you know what I mean? Little,”
