Mildred nearly slammed the door, but stopped herself at the last moment. She didn't want to give Homer the satisfaction of knowing he had got to her. She had picked up the umbrella without thinking, but damned is she was gonna tell him that.
The clouds were dark and low, the air thick. Mildred climbed into their '65 Volkswagen, and propped the umbrella up on the floor of the passenger side, handle side down. She hated this car. Homer was always telling people that it had over 300 thousand miles on it. What he didn't tell them, was it was running on it's 4th engine. The noisy pop, pop, pop, of the four cylinder, air-cooled engine, filled the car, as Mildred pulled from the curb.
Once at the grocery store, Mildred pushed her cart down the vegetable aisle, stopping to examine foreign vegetables. It wasn't that she was interested in them, it was more that she hoped one would poison Homer. She meandered through the store, stopped and picked up some generic cereal that looked hard as a rock. Maybe he's choke on it.
It was only when she got to the detergent section, did she start reading labels. She read through the detergents, bleach, softeners, liquid hand soaps. By the time she'd reached the end of the aisle she knew more about cleaning products than she wanted to know.