Prompt: Tickle

All's Fair

She lays reading in the slanting morning light from the high bedroom window. Her back is to me, and I can’t help myself, I lean in to tickle the soft crease behind her left knee.

She laughs and hits me on the head with a pillow. I respond in kind. She grabs the lamp from the bedside table; I narrowly dodge and it shatters on the floor. I heft the brick we prop the door with, hurl it at her head, still laughing. She’s pulling out the revolver in the dresser drawer just as I return with a kitchen knife.