A new writing series highlighting the ways we say goodbye to one another. 250 words or less. Sometimes, that is all it takes. These stories are works of fiction. Some are inspired by real events. [Main Page]
“Then what the fuck are we doing here, Christine?” Paul was at his wit’s end. He didn’t know how to express how frustrated he was with her. He instinctively opened and closed his fists while he yelled at her, but thought better of it to act in the moment. She looked at him with a puzzled expression. The mascara ran down her cheeks, but she didn’t seem to notice.
“Answer me,” he said. His tone was firm, but he had at least stopped clenching his fists.
“I don’t know,” she said. I need more time. She did her best to look at him in the eyes. He never hit her before. She was worried he’d do it now. After all, if she told him the truth, it would crush him. She could tell he was more embarrassed than angry. Some serious macho bullshit bravado was on full display in their cramped apartment bedroom.
“I don’t have time. All I have is work and the answers to questions you’ve left unanswered for three months now.” He pointed at her as he gaveled his words. The spit flew out of his mouth onto the sheets they received as a wedding gift just six months ago.
She couldn’t tell him that the love was gone a long time ago. How long she could not tell. Sometime between the wedding ceremony and opening their wedding gifts. She wondered how long returns were for thousand-count Egyptian cotton sheets. She still had the receipt tucked away.
Delusional Thoughts From Fantasy Island 