Smile

This story is part of the Vocal + Assist on Facebook Unreliable Narrator Challenge. You can learn more about it here:

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Let me admit something, I have always been a sucker for a woman with a perfect smile, especially when it is directed to me.

Abigail looks up at me from across the dinner table with such a smile; it lights up this entire house brighter than the stars on a clear, dark night. I've missed that smile since it disappeared when she moved into my place two weeks ago. To see it gone so long has made me desperate and itch for the chance to see it again.

Maybe addicted is a better word to use.

Her fork shakes with excitement as she eats another bite of the roasted chicken and mac bake I cooked up just for her, knowing it would make her smile. In the background, the television plays the local news station. We watched her favorite show earlier (or more she watched, since I was watching her mouth), but changed it before Abigail and I sat down for dinner. One must keep up with the news to stay informed.

"How are you enjoying dinner, sweet Abigail?" Her fork falls out of her hand; I must have startled her, the poor mouse.

"E-e-e-everything is, um, delicious." Abigail has always been shy and quite nervous around me, as if her love for me prevents her from speaking properly. I quite enjoy that I have such an effect on her. Well, with some help.

My smile grows at her stuttered praise as I rise from the table. Her eyes widen as I draw near to pick up her dishes, still surprised by the behavior, even though it happens with every meal. I am quite certain no man has displayed such nice manners.

Abigail gets up from her seat and stumbles, grabbing the table. She laughs, "I am soooo clumsy."

"No, it's not that." I might have put a little something to her food to make sure she is giddy despite what is about to happen. I won't bore you with the details.

I come to Abigail's side to support her, leading her to a locked room I've...encouraged Abigail to stay away from. "Don't worry, sweet Abigail. Everything is going to be just fine."

***

I look down at Abigail's sweet smiling face once more before picking up the shovel beside me. It bring me such joy to know I am the one who made sure the woman died happy. Singing the tune of Don't Worry, Be Happy, I start to shovel dirt over Abigail's prone body.

Now there is this song I wrote

I hope you learned it note for note, like good little children

Don't worry, be happy

I also can't help but start to think about the next person who will be dying happy before the end of the month. And just in time for Halloween.