As his feet clattered down the stairs that morning, she put the finishing touches on her already-clean kitchen, running the bleach-soaked dishcloth across the counter one last time, making sure each tiny bit of cloth was collected, while the miniscule hole carefully pierced into the mop bucket trickled water into a growing pool on the linoleum.
"I poured your coffee when I heard you coming," she said, offering her cheek to him for a quick kiss and gesturing to his place at the breakfast bar, already neatly set with breakfast dishes and a steaming cup of coffee, the morning paper next to his napkin. A bowl of marmalade shimmered in a patch of sunlight that streamed through the kitchen window, and the toaster sat nearby at the ready, two slices of bread already in the slots.
Before he had a chance to sit down, she called over to him from the stove, "Darling, would you push the toast down while I finish your egg?"
"Well, would you look at this," he said as he reached across the counter to push the lever down. "It looks like a mouse has gnawed on this cord and caused it to fray," and with the mop water now quietly covering the soles of his wingtip shoes, he reached for the cord; the sound of the electricity coursing through his body startled her for just a moment, and then she smiled sweetly to herself as she slid her sunny-side up egg onto a plate and prepared to enjoy it with a slice of bread and some marmalade.
Linking up with Ivy at Uncharted for Six Sentence Stories with the prompt "fray."