Today you can write about anything, in whatever genre or form, but your post must mention a dark night, your fridge, and tears (of joy or sadness; your call). Feel free to switch one ingredient if you have to (or revisit one from previous trio prompts).
It was a dark and stormy night. The house was quiet, except for the howling of the wind that found every nook and cranny to seep its way into the bedroom where Lila huddled under her down comforter. She listened to the wind, wondering if that old pine in the back yard would survive another hurricane. True, this one was almost worn out, but still the tails of the storm whipped through the countryside and threatened anything in the way.
Unable to sleep, Lila reluctantly left her nest of warmth, sitting on the side of the bed to slide her feet into the slippers that rested on the floor. Grabbing her robe, she pushed her arms through the sleeves and, without turning on any lights, shuffled off to the kitchen. She wasn’t hungry, but then who needed to be hungry in order to want a late-night snack?
She mentally reviewed what she knew was in the refrigerator, and smiled as she remembered the leftover fried chicken. Perfect. Just perfect.
As she entered the kitchen, she flipped on the light and shrieked in fear as she collided with her husband. He was just as startled as she was, and they grabbed at each other in order to keep from falling in an undignified heap on the kitchen floor.
It was just as they regained their balance that she noticed the crumbs around his mouth, the grease on his lips, and the chicken bones he had dropped on the floor.
And she felt the big, fat tears start to slide down her face.