The Fixer

Swirling storm of water and foam impeccably designed to eradicate unwanted life. The water is boiling, and wears away at layers of grease. Disinfecting. Destroying. The process is whirling and unfurling while I sit safely in a leather throne, ankles crossed and legs tucked slightly beneath me. There was silence in between the violent churns of extermination from the kitchen.

The elephant in the room was clinging to the shoulders of the young man who was now slumped in his chair, staring blankly at his hands. I had been standing at the sink for a hundred years when he came through the door. A thousand ships were lost at sea, the world had changed, lives were lost and his world had collapsed all while two plates, three bowls, eight cups, one spaghetti pan and a strainer had been cleansed of their numerous sins.

I unloaded the dishes.

It was the only mess

my hands could clean.