Refrigerators float.
She hated that
refrigerator. It hummed and groaned twice as loud as the old one, and
it's door handle had to be taped down even though it was still brand
new. The old one lasted 30 years and the door handle never slipped
off.
Now, the hated one
lays face down on the kitchen floor, humiliated. She feels its loss.
Tells a story about a man who once saved his family by removing the
refrigerator door, laying it on its back, and then loading his family
inside to escape flood waters.
This one, though,
never served such a heroic purpose. It, and its rotting contents,
have been washed over with a slimy layer of sewerage silt, in a house
who's brief submergence devastated everything.
