The Time I Put Salt in My Coffee

Title: The Time I Put Salt in my Coffee
Word Count: 250 [Someone give me a medal :D]
A/N: This was a topic we thought up for a story writing contest in college and since I couldn't participate this is something I thought up in ten-odd minutes during math. And after that, I went to sleep.

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The time I put salt in the coffee instead of sugar was the day I killed my husband. It wasn't very hard to kill him. He came at me with his precious signed baseball bat and I ran and hid in the kitchen closet. I tried not to make a noise while I breathed, but it was difficult. Tears poured down my face and my breath came out in gasps. I clasped my hands over my mouth and looked around. My eyes fell on bottles of wine, chili sauces and other condiments. I spotted his mother’s prized possession, a precious heirloom she called it, a huge ceramic vase sitting under a shelf. I opened the door and peeked. I saw him standing at the doorway to our bedroom, baseball bat still clutched in his hand. He was turned away from me. I sneaked up behind him, raised the vase over my head and slammed it down on his. He crumpled forward. I didn't really have to check his pulse to know he was dead but I did it anyway. I washed the blood that had spattered on my arms and face and picked up the phone and dialed 911.

“I killed my husband” I said. I gave them my address and hung up. I walked into the kitchen, cold mugs of salted coffee still on the table. I poured myself a mug of boiling water from the kettle and dropped a teabag in it.

I've always preferred drinking tea anyway.

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