“Darling, I think we may have a subsidence problem.” Natasha set down a glass of wine and looked at the contents.
“Are you sure that it has nothing to do with how much you have drunk?”
Natasha gave Stanley a look that would have withered most people where they stood. “I am being serious! Come and have a look at this glass.”
Stanley sighed and stuck the newspaper on the side of the armchair as he stood up. When he looked at the glass he could instantly see that there really was a problem. One side of the house appeared to be sinking away so the liquid within the glass was at a perilous angle. Considering it may be a one-off, Stanley put his own glass next to it and watched the similar result.
Before he could say anything another wineglass was positioned beside it. Stanley looked at it, and then at little Tommy, and finally Natasha in panic.
The same realisation was on Natasha’s face as she grabbed her son. “Have you been drinking that?” He nodded slowly as if afraid he was in trouble.
Subsidence forgotten they rushed to the hospital. Little Tommy had been drinking bleach.
Written for Sunday photo fiction