Zachary kept coming to me, saying his hand was bleeding and I couldn’t figure out what in the world was going on. Everytime I would look at his hand, the red would wipe away easily enough there weren’t any visible scratches, so I would send him off on his merry little way.
Later in the morning I was cleaning up in the kitchen and looked down at the fronts of my white cupboards and saw a child-sized red hand print smeared down the cabinet front. I stopped in my tracks and then a little light-bulb went on in my head.
Zachary.
I opened the freezer and checked the shelf with our frozen strawberries and noticed that the bag was suspiciously open. I hunted down Zachary and asked,
“Zachary. Were you in the freezer this morning?”
His answer?
“Why would I be in the strawberries?”
Busted, boyfriend.
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