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She approached him to share a simple everyday thing.
He, annoyed: Are you talking to me?? I can’t even hear you.
She repeated herself. His expression? Whatever.
Brokenhearted. Again. Why did I choose him? He is like my mother. I am an annoyance.
A simple plan. A simple dream. A quiet new home with just her thoughts and her cats. Peace and quiet, blossoming joy. Visitors that are happy to see her.
She’d never spoken to him that way. She entertained the thought of starting. It was not her way. She loved him too much. Why?
To each his own.
(Originally published 2021/03/29 at 10:48 am)
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