Alice Minster

Approximately 650 words

By Ann Davie

Alice Minster wiped down the kitchen counter for what would be exactly the four thousand fifteenth time.  She then moved to the sink and dusted it with the measured amount of Ajax and set the kitchen timer for exactly three and a half minutes.  She watched the powder absorb the drops of water left in the sink.  She sat mesmerized by her favorite moment of the day, watching each blue speck bloom, releasing some magical formula she knew with all her soul would get the stainless steel clean.  Poised over the sink, she savored the anticipation that built before the buzzer signaled her chance to scrub, as if waiting for a starter’s gun.

The silence was cut by the peal of the front doorbell.  Alice’s hands, sheathed in green rubber gloves took the first practiced strokes around the outer rim, always the toughest to get really clean.  She looked up and realized there was still twenty seconds.  Cursing her bad luck, she tossed the scrubbing sponge into the sink and turned the taps on to flush the powder down the drain.  She’d just have to start over again.

Alice turned around with the sound of a creaky hinge followed by a metallic clap of the mail slot.

“Why are there days like this?”  She peeled the gloves off and threw them to the counter.  As she trudged into the hallway, she saw the postman’s figure fade away through the frosted entry window.  She ran to the doorway, stumbling over a pile of letters, before she pulled the door open.

“Wait!  Watch out!  I just sprayed for weeds!”  She yelled after the postman as he dashed across the lawn.

Alice closed the door and pushed the entry rug with her foot, making sure it was flush up against the threshold.  She gave an exasperated sigh as she thought about having to spray the lawn again later today.  She bent down, collected the half-dozen envelopes and pamphlets and then sorted them by size.  Her shuffling stopped when the all-too-familiar envelope appeared.

She stared at the letter in her hand.  She never thought she’d ever receive another, and yet, a part of her – a tiny bit of stubbornness in the back of her mind, hoped that just one more would someday come.  The business size envelope with no return address gave no hint of the importance of its contents. It was like all the others received over the years, now held together in neat little bundles by rubber bands, in a box safely hidden away in the attic.

She had spent many a sleepless night pondering how she would feel should she finally receive the letter.  She had no idea, during those hours of darkness wishing for the letter to arrive that her hands would shake like this, that her eyes would fill with tears, that she would be afraid to open it.

This envelope was not going to be like the others, she could tell.  This one was going to have good news for a change.  She slipped her finger under the flap trying to be careful to tear only what was necessary in order preserve the letter and envelope for posterity.

With a sharp inhale, Alice withdrew the letter.  It was there.  Ed McMahon and Dick Clark smiling at her.  “Alice Minster, you could be a winner now!  Check the box below to see your prize.”  She unfolded the sheet of paper, straightening it by folding each crease on itself.  Her eyes scanned down the letter.  Again, nothing.  How could they torment her like this?

Alice wiped the tears from her cheeks, the scent of disinfectant still lingered on her fingers.  She placed the letter back into the envelope and placed it on the desk in the hallway, ready to be stored with all the others, hidden amongst the boxes and boxes of magazines she’d been offered over the years by Ed and Dick.