"Not tonight," he muttered, already late for his online meeting.
It began as a low growl, a throaty rumble from the steel canyon of the kitchen sink. To Mark, it was just the sound of Tuesday night cleanup. He scraped the plates—a little rice, some wilted spinach, the usual. Then he flicked the switch. insinkerator blocked
Grrr-click. Grrr-click. Hmmmm.
Not a growl. Not a hum.