Frustration
Donna had been trying to untie this knot for 10, no, 20 minutes now. She pulled at the knotted yarn with her teeth. (Incisors to strings, some saliva catching and drying on the individual strands). Maybe if she ripped right though it, the stubborn twists would come undone.
She held the yellow, green and red ball in her lap, the freed strings laying flat across her right thigh. Donna’s untied hair kept falling down into the knot, into her lap, making the process that much more irritating. The arms on the clock moved derisively forward: 7:01. 7:02…
It was Sean’s fault. He had given the strings to the cat, a gesture of friendliness between two enemies. Snickers pawed and leapt at the yarn until it became entwined with itself three, four times over. Donna had come home, ready to start her scarf project. Perhaps it would have included some decorative fringe, if there was enough yarn left.
The knot was a messy gnarl of loops, twists and curlicues. Every spiral she managed to straighten only lead to another tangle to unkink. It took patience and precision to pry the pieces of string away from itself. Her fingernails were starting to hurt.
Donna cursed and accidentally dropped the knot on the kitchen floor. Snickers leapt quickly. Donna wanted to kick the cat. Instead she walked into the living room and yelled at her boyfriend, “Sean! You owe me some new yarn. Get your ass to Michael’s.”
AKR
