First attempt at a short story - the beginning.

This is a first attempt at writing a short story. Feedback would be fun and accepted. What I'm really looking for is ideas for where to take this story or even ideas for a whole new story. I just started writing and this is what came out. No, there is no symbolism of my life or deeper meaning intended. I'm not committed to this story, but if there are ideas of where to take it, please let me know and maybe together we can take this somewhere. Now, enjoy the spout from my mind.

She sat in her usual chair, at the usual time and place - that stupid chair that seemed to be good for nothing except for irritating and making herself, already unsure, feel even more unsteady. It had one leg that was a little shorter than the other three legs and made just enough wobble to make it impossible to find both balance and comfort. Fidgeting in the chair, Anna couldn’t help but make it tip, ever so slightly, back and forth between the two settling positions, which created a tapping noise each time it settled to the new position.

Tap. Tap. Back and forth.

“Stupid chair”, she thought to herself. No one ever listened anyway. “Worthless thing has been here as long as he has and is just as aggravating.”

She had sat on this imperfect chair so many times. At first, she just dealt with it, hoping the wood would balance itself out as it cured and settled into the grooves and holes. It never did. Though, she kept just enough irrational hope alive that it someday would that she could still be disappointed whenever there was a tap.

But the chair was so beautiful. She was always embarrassed to think of it, but she knew, and so did Kevin, that she had been unusually excited to have this chair when he moved in with her. It had become a running joke between them that she loved him for this chair. She had loved sitting on it when it was still at his place. It was a natural, but unusually dark wood. Cherry maybe; she didn’t know. It was simply carved, but with a simplicity that shown as elegance. He had created it – designed, it, built, carved, and assembled it – on his own. It had been one of her strongest initial attractions to him, that he could create such beauty. She had often thought the chair, in a foolishly, overly romantic sense, represented their love – simple, but elegant and unique.

“I suppose that this still held true”, she thought.

But, at his place the chair sat on carpet, which provided enough cushion and pad where the four legs rested on the floor so that she had never noticed the difference in the legs’ lengths. It sat perfectly balanced. No tilt. No back and forth. No problems. Just comfort and beauty.

Tap. Tap. A pair of taps rang out again from the legs.

Anna let out a sharp wisp of air. Her anger was already becoming vocal and Kevin wasn’t even home yet. A few years ago, she would have thought it comical how the taps were timed from the chair - echoing her mental hatred of the sound as though in mockery. She would’ve laughed. Now, it was just infuriating. She rocked back and forth a few more times in an unnecessarily violent repositioning of herself in hopes of preventing more tapping.

It had the opposite effect. The sound waves from a series of taps bombarded her ears as they rose from the tile floor. The noise seemed to be amplified. How could a chair possibly make so much noise?! The clamor reverberated inside her like gunshots in a cathedral. The anger that rose didn’t have a chance to escape before another…

Tap. Tap. Tap.

This wasn’t going as she had planned and a second person hadn’t even entered the argument yet. Her anger was becoming hot and she had wanted it to be cool for when he got home. He rarely responded to hot anger, and when he did respond, it was either with a slammed car door as he left, or a slammed bedroom door after pushing her outside of the room. She needed to have control over herself; at least enough to keep Kevin listening for what she needed to say. He had to listen. He had to hear her out. He had to know that she wasn’t going to wait at home anymore for him. She wouldn’t be there for him anymore.

She had practiced this speech so many times before. She knew when she could get angry and to what degree and still keep him listening, even if not responding. But, she could feel herself getting red in the face already.

“Not yet”, she told herself aloud.

She rubbed her hands together and noticed her hands had become sweaty. This evening, up until this moment, she had been proud of her dry hands. She felt prepared and confident in what she would do and say, and her dry, sweat-free hands reinforced that confidence. Now that she had enraged herself – he always could make her angrier than anyone else – the adrenaline had entered her muscles and caused her sweat glands to try to cool her. It always started in her hands. If she didn’t get herself under control quickly, she will have already forfeited the night’s fight.

Tap. Tap.

Anna shot up from the chair and walked into the kitchen to get a drink of water.

She grabbed a glass from the cupboard, slapped up at the water control, and waited for the cold water to fill her glass. She filled her mouth, held the liquid inside her mouth, letting the chill absorb some of the heat from her head. Then she swallowed. She felt a little better. She drew the glass to her mouth again, and drained it, letting the cold run down the inside of her throat and rest inside her, cooling her insides. This always helped, and her mood was again improved until, just as she started to grin at regaining her composure, she heard the clang of small metal gears and the creak of hinges on wood. She had missed the sound of the garage door, apparently while she filled her glass and drank, and now heard the turn of the doorknob from the garage to the house. She was caught off guard. She had planned to hear the garage door open, the car pull in, his door close, and listen to each step as he walked up the few wooden stairs into their kitchen. This way she could be just out of sight but prepared and determined to execute her plan.

But she had missed the opportunity. He was turning the doorknob and entering the room she was standing in. No chance she would be able to leave the room and run to her designed place. She was here, he is coming in right now, and in two more seconds the stale pleasantries would start. Not at all what she had planned. Without even trying he had upset her plans and had an advantage over her. “He always does this, and it’s not fair”, she thought. As she clenched her hands tightly, she noticed the moisture had returned, stripping her of a little more confidence, and she watched the door open. Kevin stepped inside.