The rusted pulleys shrieked as Molly hoisted the clothes airer and secured the rope to the cleat.
“What do you want for dinner?” she asked her husband.
“Pam and Bill have invited us for drinks tomorrow night. I thought we could go.”
“You go. I’ll be alright here.”
“No, I don’t want to go without you. Maybe we could go see a movie instead.”
“There’s nothing on.”
The rusted pulleys shrieked as Molly lowered the clothes airer and folded the dry shirts into her basket.
“I think this thing would work a lot better with a drop of oil,” she said.
Written for Friday Fictioneers.