Trigger warning: Dark topic
Continuation of Midnight Walk
His patience was held by a thread because this morning, he woke up to a cold, empty bed. It had been cold for some time. He usually woke up before her, to go work outside, while this morning she might as well not have slept at all. All of this is because of a little fight the night before. It had been the sun that awoke him—meaning she had not awakened him in time and he would have to do many chores way faster than usual.
She hadn’t been there for hours.
His patience was held by a thread because this morning, he found a dead spider in his bottle of whiskey. It had certainly not climbed in there itself, but he could not imagine the scared-of-spiders wife finding a dead spider and putting it there. It also did not look squashed, so that made it even less likely. Where could she find an already-dead spider in the middle of the night, with no sort of light to help her find it, just to put it in his bottle?
She went on a walk at midnight, to calm herself.
His patience was held by a thread because this morning, he found snow peeking out of trees. Winter had come far too early. He had done none of the necessary chores around the cabin. Everything was either soaking wet or far too cold and on the verge of death. If she had awakened him a little earlier, he could maybe have avoided this. It had only been snowing for a few hours, not the whole night.
She had simply tried to take the bottle from him.
His patience was held by a thread because this morning, she was still nowhere to be seen. She usually cooked for him, but this morning, he had to prepare food for himself. As anyone here could understand, a little apologies-for-being-a-b- breakfast could have been good for his patience.
She “had to learn her lesson.”
His patience was held by a thread because this morning, he could not find the rope anywhere. He was supposed to use it to tie certain objects together in the barn and for other chores too, but it was gone from its intended place. He knew he had left it there the last time he used it. Or had he? He looked everywhere, but his efforts were in vain.
—
His patience was held by a thread because this morning, he was left alone to think about what happened yesterday. She had no right to complain about it, and yet she was not there. She was probably trying to save her flowers or something, he did not care. The fact that she was not here after the fight was insulting on its own.
She deserved it if her personal area in the garden was hurt.
His patience was held by a thread because this morning, he remembered how selfish she was. Can’t a man have a right to have a little drink and have a little fun? Sure, he had hurt her. He had forced her down and… But that all happened on the moment, without a thought, It meant nothing. He did not think about it. He did not really mean to force her and… She had just been a burden the whole day and he wanted to finally shut her up.
She had cried and begged when it happened—he did not stop.
His patience was held by a thread because this morning, she was trying to make him feel bad by her absence. What else could possibly explain it? She was avoiding him because she wanted to leave him alone with his thoughts and make him remember how yesterday, he got drunk and how yesterday, he had hurt her. But it was not his fault! She had been the reason for his drinking! If she had not been so bothersome the whole day, he would not have drank so much! It was her fault, and now he felt bad for what happened. She was like Atropos to the thread of life; she was ready to ruin it as she desired.
She had lived through that so often… she could not hold it anymore.
His patience was held by a thread because this morning, he had the same patience as yesterday. His night had been nothing but a waste of time. He was put in a bad mood yesterday and he stayed in a bad mood because of her. If she had done her job and awakened him, he could have done most—no, all—of the chores in time. Now, he had to work outside in the cold.
She had no use for the rope, he thought.
His patience was held by a thread because this morning, he could not find the stupid rope he needed for all his chores. He looked everywhere. He looked everywhere, I tell you! His patience was only held by a thread when he decided to go walk around in the abandoned factory, in the forest. Sure, it would be a long morning walk, but they had abandoned it all on a whim years ago, without taking their equipment back ever since. Some stupid rope would be there and finally, he could work.
She had hidden it to ruin his day even more, he decided.
His patience was held by a thread because this morning, he had to walk a few miles in the forest to find an old abandoned factory, which had certainly become a little dangerous over the years. The terrain was so bothersome he had to break a little bit of nature to get there, but finally, he saw the old building’s bricks in the distance.
She had gone there too, yesterday.
His patience was held by a thread because this morning, he could not find the entrance to the factory. The building was there, half collapsed and dangerous, but full of rope, the material he needed this morning. He went around multiple times, not caring to look through the broken glass that served for windows, as he was trying to find a real door. He could not find it. Finally, he found a window which was bare in glass and went through it.
She was there, held by a single thread—or rather, by rope.
