Daily Prompt – Learning
I’m learning to live without you again. I sleep in the middle of the bed and in the morning I leave the covers in a rumpled pile. I listen to my favorite music when I shower and I sing out loud because I know I won’t wake you. I kick off my shoes and leave them by the front door when I get home from work. And my jewelry sits in a tangled mess on the dresser until weeks end when I put it away. I don’t have to worry about being neat and tidy all the time now that you’re gone. But I left your side of the closet empty just in case you decide to come back.
Daily Prompt – Fifty
Today he became just another man. There is nothing special about him; he’s lost his shine. His eyes don’t sparkle, his smile doesn’t light up the room, he blends into the crowd. He is no longer extraordinary. The stars don’t shine for him and he doesn’t hang the moon. There may be fifty ways to leave your lover but there’s only one way to break my heart. And he found it.
Daily Prompt – Jeopardize
You walk in the door and I timidly call out, “How was your day?” as if it were any other day. I know we’re on shaky ground and I don’t want to jeopardize the truce we fought so hard to broker. I flinch as you hurl your satchel on the sofa next to me. “I don’t want to talk about it.” You make your move straight to the liquor cabinet and I close my eyes, silently praying that tonight will be an early one.
“There’s a roast in the oven.” My voice sounds overly cheerful but you don’t notice, nor do you comment on my peculiar attempt at domesticity. “I’m not hungry.” You mutter as you slump into the neighboring loveseat, the same one you fought against. ‘It’s too flowery. It looks girly.’ I guess a stiff glass of bourbon gives it a more manly feel.
I sit rigidly upright, suddenly very aware of the odor of desolation in the room. I’m afraid the somber mood mixed with alcohol will lead to another fight, one from which we may not recover. My eyes dart around, looking for any distraction. “Lindsay sent a postcard from Madrid. Maybe we can plan a vacation in the spring.” It was a lame attempt for a commitment on your part. Will you still be here in six months? You merely shrug your shoulders and take a long sip of bourbon. That is the only answer I needed.