And here's what came of it (all 200 words - right up to the limit!):
“Conlin! I need to get this roast started. Can you peel these potatoes, please?” I placed the groceries on the counter and peered into the living room to see if he’d moved.
I heard a big sigh, “If I said no, would you let me finish my show?”
I smiled, knowing he couldn’t see me, “Nope. Pause it. I promise the potatoes are the only job I need you to do…well, and take the soda to the shed once Ms. Fernick goes back inside.
That got him up. He peeked out the window, “What? Still?” He started peeling into the sink as he gazed.
“Unfortunately. She caught that *one* glimpse two months ago, and hasn’t stopped looking to see if she’s crazy.”
“Well, I can answer that. She is.” He wasn’t paying attention to what he was doing. “Can you believe she’s gotten binoculars?!?!” His thrusts were too angry. He sliced his thumb. “Crap!” I jumped for the paper towels, frantic to catch the blood before it dripped.
“Are you *trying* to end up like your father?” I was exasperated. “You need to be careful. If just one drop…”
“I know, I know! I’m sorry!”
“Don’t be sorry, be careful.”