The Bear that Stands ‡

Suzanne Rancourt
2011 unpublished
I'm in my kitchen, standing at the edge of my Malaysian-made farm table. My Brother sewing machine, a Mother's Day gift from an ex-husband, teeters on the edge while brocades, satins, and chiffons slide from the edge of my fine, flat table and onto a floor spattered with muddy dog prints. Everything has been pushed aside except for my open weapons bag and a couple boxes of shells. Once a Marine, always a Marine. Some people don't understand the word no. He had entered my home in my absence, and
more » ... in my absence, and skulked around the outside at three in the morning until I let my wolf dog out. But that wasn't the crazy stuff. Previously he had let the air out of my tires, made endless prank phone calls, cyber stalked me, and unchained my dog then neatly wound the cable up and placed it on the porch where I would step.