I want my ending, Mr. Rainey
It is Friday, after school, I get home and the door is locked. I knock, but no one answers, so I dig my key out of my backpack. When the door swings open, a wave of corny aroma rolls over me. Confused, I turn left, down the hallway to where I can see yellowed light spilling out of my brother's open doorway. Ah, sleeping. I drop my backpack off in my room, then headed to the kitchen for a snack.
...
I stand under the kitchen door jam, staring at the unpeeled cobs of corn and pots littering the counter top, starting on the side nearest me, to the sink, and beyond to the stove - one pot already on the stove's far burner. I open the microwave only to find two steaming cobs of corn in a bag. Pivoting on the balls of my feet, I turn to survey the kitchen once more, thoughts of Secret Window racing through my head and clips of Mort Rainey's kitchen playing over and over again behind my eyes.
Then Nicole stopped wondering, took the corn out of the microwave and made room for it on the counter. Afterward, she decided she needed a nice sit-down with a cup of ice cream and the newspaper. The funnies, to be precise. She opened the freezer door, and there were ICE CREAM SANDWICHES. Someone must surely love her.
Epilogue
Twelve minutes later, her mother came home and asked why she was eating a sausage-hummus sandwich and not corn (turns out she had been more than ice-cream-hungry).
...
I stand under the kitchen door jam, staring at the unpeeled cobs of corn and pots littering the counter top, starting on the side nearest me, to the sink, and beyond to the stove - one pot already on the stove's far burner. I open the microwave only to find two steaming cobs of corn in a bag. Pivoting on the balls of my feet, I turn to survey the kitchen once more, thoughts of Secret Window racing through my head and clips of Mort Rainey's kitchen playing over and over again behind my eyes.
Then Nicole stopped wondering, took the corn out of the microwave and made room for it on the counter. Afterward, she decided she needed a nice sit-down with a cup of ice cream and the newspaper. The funnies, to be precise. She opened the freezer door, and there were ICE CREAM SANDWICHES. Someone must surely love her.
Epilogue
Twelve minutes later, her mother came home and asked why she was eating a sausage-hummus sandwich and not corn (turns out she had been more than ice-cream-hungry).