By Katelyn S. Irons
“Is this all you came for?” He set down his coffee and leaned back into the flaking vinyl booth.
“Is this all you came for?” He set down his coffee and leaned back into the flaking vinyl booth.
“Yes.” She said barely above a whisper.
“Well that’s just dandy.” He slammed the manila folder against the table. She cringed.
“You must realize…” She clutched at the drastically white bones of her wrists with both hands. Her black long sleeve shirt covered everything else.
“I must realize?” He slammed his meaty fist. “I must realize!”
A waitress turned and looked their way, her coffee pot indecisive. “You’re making a scene, Tom.”
Tom snorted. Her eyelids fluttered over her brown doe eyes. There were faint dark circles around them. They weren’t from a lack of sleep.
“You’re MY wife.” His body was tense beneath his blue coveralls, the fabric around his shoulders taut. She looked at him – a wall of muscle – the man she used to love.
“Something has to change.” The wife said in a whisper. She got up and kissed his forehead. Then he watched her leave.
Tom was biting a pencil eraser end first. He sat in the kitchen she used to call a breakfast nook. She said it made it sound friendlier. He had replied that nook made it sound pretentious. She said it made it sound bright and cheerful.
Tom was biting a pencil eraser end first. He sat in the kitchen she used to call a breakfast nook. She said it made it sound friendlier. He had replied that nook made it sound pretentious. She said it made it sound bright and cheerful.
His eyes outlined the edges of the coffee cup in front of him, the bills that needed to be paid. At last they settled on the folder marked “Divorce”.
The muscles of his jaw flexed and his teeth bit through the pencil. He spit out the eraser end but continued to toy with the sharpened end, tapping it against the orange table cloth that was spotted with coffee drips.
His eyes were bloodshot. He should have called off work, but he had forgotten where his phone was. He misplaced it the night before. He had misplaced the whole night, actually. Since she had left the misplaced nights had become more frequent.
He opened the folder.
The curtains in the breakfast nook were blowing in the breeze. They were little lace sheers that she had sewn buying the fabric with money scraped together from her meager tips. The wind would have been sweet coming through the window if he’d remembered to fix the sewer like she’d asked.
He exchanged his broken pencil for an ink pen.
The pen he picked up was from a cracked jar she had set on the table. It was blue hand glazed and had been reconstructed and glued together. It was full of pencils and pens, dried flowers and scraps of ribbon. He flashed back to one of the nights he’d misplaced. The table had been upended, the little jar thrown, shattered pieces sticking out of her arm.
He paused, hand wavering over the folder.
It was time. She deserves better, he thought. He signed and got up to get the bottle out of the top cabinet, where she hadn’t been able to reach. It was time...
His eyes were bloodshot. He should have called off work, but he had forgotten where his phone was. He misplaced it the night before. He had misplaced the whole night, actually. Since she had left the misplaced nights had become more frequent.
He opened the folder.
The curtains in the breakfast nook were blowing in the breeze. They were little lace sheers that she had sewn buying the fabric with money scraped together from her meager tips. The wind would have been sweet coming through the window if he’d remembered to fix the sewer like she’d asked.
He exchanged his broken pencil for an ink pen.
The pen he picked up was from a cracked jar she had set on the table. It was blue hand glazed and had been reconstructed and glued together. It was full of pencils and pens, dried flowers and scraps of ribbon. He flashed back to one of the nights he’d misplaced. The table had been upended, the little jar thrown, shattered pieces sticking out of her arm.
He paused, hand wavering over the folder.
It was time. She deserves better, he thought. He signed and got up to get the bottle out of the top cabinet, where she hadn’t been able to reach. It was time...