A fierce craving for Mom’s (not really)patented chicken casserole drove her towards the kitchen. She stumbled a little with the weight of a night’s drinking making her strides anything but steady. Reaching the vast fridge that occupied one corner of the kitchen, she flung the massive doors open to begin browsing the shelves and racks.
Some fuzzy part of her mind knew that she’d brought some casserole home in one of the many Tupperware boxes that her parents dolled leftovers out in. Was it the red topped one? No, no, Mom had a system. Red was for beef dishes, chicken was…
Yellow! A flash of yellow caught her eye as she moved some assorted jars out of the way. Grasping the box with both hands she pulled it out and took it to the counter. Peeling the lid off to take a deep sniff of that rich, heady sauce.
A gag, a shudder, a lurch of her stomach! Putrid stenches assailed her nostrils. Retching, she clamped the lid back on the box and ran to the back door to gulp down fresh air. As the sobering and crisp night atmosphere settled her stomach and purged her nose of the violent attack, her mind focused. The last time she’d visited home to have chicken casserole… was two months ago.
Pulling a face, she steadied herself with the doorframe. Her craving had been crushed, her appetite abated. Come morning, she would clear the fridge out and write a big post-it note for herself: If she really wanted home cooking, she should really go home for it.
Author’s Note: Today’s 3 Word Wednesday words were Crave, Putrid, Shudder.