"I am the grammarian about whom your mother warned you."
I wrote this awhile back for a flash fiction contest, but it didn’t make it. Thought I’d post it here anyway. It had to be 150 words or less, I clocked in at 137.
Mary stood up in the rowboat, rocking it sharply. “You told me you were going to leave her.”
Calvin remained seated, his hands still on the oars. “Keep your voice down.”
The moonless night hid them but the sound carried. If anyone heard them arguing, their secret would be out. At night on the lake was the safest way they could meet without the little town finding out and ruining them both.
Mary reached out to slap Calvin, but the boat rocked harder. Calvin stood, oar in hand, and swung it, connecting with Mary’s temple. She went over the side, into the lake, the heavy woolen skirts pulling her down into the icy black water. Calvin looked around, put the oars back in the water, and rowed for shore.
The next night, Calvin’s wife died in childbirth.