The Straw that Broke the Camel's Back

Rome sat at the kitchen table, a half-empty coffee mug in front of him, and staring at his phone.

The clock on the wall ticked loudly, each second a reminder of how much he had to do today. Or, more accurately, how much Melissa thought he had to do.

"Rome," she said, her voice sharp as she walked into the room. "Did you fix the faucet yet?"

He sighed, running a hand through his thinning hair. "I was getting to it."

"That's what you said yesterday. And the day before." She crossed her arms, leaning against the counter. "It's been leaking for a week. Do you know how much water we're wasting?"

Rome clenched his jaw. It was always something with her. The faucet. The lawn. The burnt dishes. The garbage disposal that he didn't break, thank you very much. He could feel the weight of her expectations pressing down on him, a constant, nagging reminder that he was never quite good enough.

"I'll do it later," he muttered, picking up his mug and taking a sip. The coffee was cold.

"Later isn't good enough, Rome." Her voice was like a knife. "You always say 'later,' and then it never gets done. I'm tired of having to remind you about everything."

Rome set the mug down with a little too much force, the sound echoing in the small kitchen. "Maybe if you stopped nagging me all the time, I'd actually have the energy to do it."

"Nagging?" Melissa's eyes widened, and for a moment, Rome thought she might actually laugh. "You think reminding you to do basic household chores is nagging? Do you even hear yourself?"

He didn't respond. Instead, he stared at the table, his fingers drumming against the wood. The ticking of the clock grew louder.

"You know what?" Melissa said, throwing her hands up. "Forget it. I'll fix it myself. Like I always do."

She turned and walked out of the kitchen. Rome sat there, his heart pounding in his chest. The faucet. The lawn. The garbage disposal. It was always something. Always her voice, her expectations, her endless, endless nagging.

And then, without really thinking about it, he stood up.

The frying pan was on the stove, an omelet inside, and the pan itself warm. He picked it up, feeling the weight of it in his hand. The omelet flew out of the pan, yet the utensil was heavier than he expected.

"Rome?" Melissa's voice came from the living room, tinged with annoyance. "Are you even listening to me?"

He walked into the living room, the pan swinging at his side. Melissa was standing by the couch, her arms crossed, her expression a mix of frustration and exhaustion.

"Rome, what are you—"

The pan connected with the side of her head with a dull thud. She staggered but didn't fall, her eyes wide with shock. Rome raised the pan again, and as he swung, his phone buzzed in his pocket.

He froze, mid-swing, and pulled out his phone. It was a notification from his fantasy football league. One of his players had scored a touchdown.

"Hold on," he said, holding up a finger to Melissa, who was clutching the side of her head, blood trickling through her fingers. "I just need to check this real quick."

Melissa stared at him, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Rome tapped on his phone, scrolling through the stats. "Huh," he said, nodding to himself. "Not bad. Not bad at all."

"Rome," Melissa whispered, her voice trembling. "What are you doing?"

He looked up, as if surprised to see her still standing there. "Oh, right. Sorry about that."

He returned the phone to his pocket and swung the pan again, this time with more force. Melissa crumpled to the floor without a sound.

For a moment, Rome just stood there, staring at her lifeless body. The ticking of the clock was gone, replaced by a ringing silence. He looked down at the pan in his hand, then back at Melissa.

"Well," he said, his voice calm, almost conversational. "That's one way to fix the faucet."

He walked back to the kitchen and set the pan down on the stove before returning to the spot where Melissa was. Rome knelt beside her, checking her pulse. Nothing. He sat back on his heels, a strange sense of relief washing over him. No more complaints. No more reminders. No more expectations.

Rome stood up and walked back into the kitchen, humming softly to himself. He had a lot to do today, after all. But first, he needed another cup of coffee.

-------