phosphorous, argon, kettle, Bunsen Burner (you may count this as 2 if you wish), anniversary, cocoa, November, date, numbers AND fire
The scientist in him couldn’t regret the amount of time spent lighting a fire under his Bunsen burner, but he knew the man, if he’d excluded his wife from his experiments, would. Oh, how he missed her. Lana had been the only woman, outside the scientific world, who was only too happy to listen to conversations that would have bored a lesser woman.
When he touted the benefits, and dangers, of phosphorous acid -- or similar chemicals -- instead of rolling her eyes as most would do, she’d found it fascinating to learn that something she used to kill root rot in her Winery’s greenhouse could be so beneficial...or deadly...depending on how one handled it.
Victor knew he was being maudlin today, but as this was the anniversary of a date he was not likely to forget, he felt entitled to be. On the morning of November eighteenth one year ago, while he’d waited for the kettle to boil for his wake-me-up cocoa, his wife was at her Winery struggling unsuccessfully to get air into her lungs.
Safety in numbers couldn’t save her, and like chickens to slaughter, the argon gas leak from a faulty tank claimed her life and the lives of her Bottling Attendants.