Abner and Minerva

Abner lay down inside his skin just before the ringing of his alarm. It had grown easier each night; leaving his body next to his plain wife Minerva who slept through everything. Returning was the hard part. He had loved his wife, in their youth, or so he thought, when her skin was fresh like the girl on the corner of Cherry and 18^th.

Minerva lay there, through the alarm and through Abner’s rubbing her shoulder, for several moments. She finally awoke with a tired yawn and stretch then slipped on her house shoes and shuffled to the kitchen.

Minerva made a delicious breakfast for her husband each day. In fact, her cooking was the single thread holding the couple together. Any missed formality could cause the marriage to implode. They knew that, so they were careful.

“That ham was delicious.” he complimented on his way out the door to work. “Was that hickory?”

“Mesquite.” She replied.

After his shift, Abner returned home to the aroma of a succulent meal in the kitchen. Minerva was in bed, but had left a note on his tin-foil-covered plate. “Since you mentioned ‘Mesquite’” it said with a winking face.

After his supper, Abner slid into his bed and out of his skin. He kissed Minerva on the forehead, but his mind was on the girl on the corner of Cherry and 18^th, just as it had been all day. He made his way to her house once more, gliding through the open window. Upon his entrance he discovered something he did not expect: Minerva floating over the girl’s dissected body.