My ten minutes of writing in response to the Write4Ten prompt.
She pictured her kids, sticking forks into the toaster to retrieve the charred remains of the toast. Or getting spattered with hot bacon grease. Or spilling a boiling cup of coffee. And knives, she knew there had to be knives involved.
"No, close your eyes. They'll be fine. There haven't been any screams. Yet." She took a deep breath with the intentions of calming herself but all that did was intensify the smells coming from the kitchen.
She rolled over and pulled the pillow over her head. "Much better. Dulls the sounds and the smells." But that didn't last long, she needed to breath so the pillow got tossed on the floor.
"Wait, it's quiet. Is that good or bad? Should I get up? No, I need to stay in bed. The anticipation is killing me!" She retrieved the pillow from the floor and plumped it before stuffing it behind her back. Sitting up straighter she listened. Muffled voices, something being dragged across the floor. A body?
"Stop it," she scolded herself.
Finally the door opened and in walked two proud kids, carrying a Mother's Day breakfast tray with her boiled coffee, some bacon and scrambled eggs, two pieced of well scraped toast - no butter, half an orange, accompanied by a flower and a card. She knew it was worth the wait as she looked at their glowing faces.