Knives. Where were the knives? she thought to herself, getting more aggravated by the second. There were plenty of forks. If she needed a fork, or even a spoon, there were loads. The drawer was overflowing with cutlery of all kinds, excpet for knives.
She could hardly cut the ham with a spoon, gouging chunks out of it. Sighing, she tried to count to ten, calmly. This is what her therapist talked her through. Stand still, breath deeply and count. One...two...three...But, where were all the knives?
They had been there at some point. The cutlery had been bought in a set. There had been forks, desert spoons, soup spoons and knives. Knives. Now, there wasn't a knive in sight. Someone had taken them. Someone had taken them from the drawer and not put them back. Why? Why, would someone do that? Were they too lazy? Too stupid? Too inconsiderate of her needs? Selfishly, they hadn't thought ahead to the fact that someone might, one day need a knife. That she, might need a knife.
Slamming the door, angrily, she picked up a fork from the draining board and threw it at the wall. It ricocheted off, hitting the fridge.
"Stupid bloody knives." she said, slumping to the floor, her shoulders beginning to shake with sobs.
"Stupid bloody knives." she repeated, her mascara running in streams down her cheeks.
Stpid bloody Andrew for dying, she thought.