Guacamole Doesn’t Keep

“What I don’t get,” she said,  standing over the garbage can, holding the bowl of guacamole in one hand, its vibrant green turned to brown along the ridges and slopes where the chips dug in. “Is the sudden switch. Last week he was here talking about a promotion. And now this.”

A voice from the other room called something back. She couldn’t make out the words, but the tone was accusatory. A blob on the dip landed on the edge of the garbage can. She wiped at it. Absently, she lifted her fingers to her mouth and licked them clean.

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