The Break-Up

“Let’s just agree to disagree.” She threw her coat on the sofa and walked to the cabinet for a wine glass. It was the third time this week their drive home had ended up in an argument. She was beginning to think he was intentionally starting these little fights. She poured the Malbec very close to the top of the glass and took a long sip.

“I’m just saying your friends can be a bit melodramatic.” He poured himself a glass of bourbon, neat and sat on the sofa, pushing her coat aside.

She frowned at him and hung her coat in the closet. “And you can be a little pompous. You’ve never complained about my friends before.” She took the arm chair adjacent to the sofa.

“Maybe I’ve merely kept my opinions to myself to avoid arguments.” He was calm and placid, as if they were talking about the weather. It made her blood boil but she wouldn’t show it.

“Perhaps you should stay home when my friends have dinner parties.” The conversation was taking a more serious tone and she wasn’t sure if she liked the direction it was going.

“That might be a good alternative. It would be better than hearing them prattle on about the trivial subjects they always choose.” Now he was just baiting her.

“I think we should take a break.” It was a bold statement. She could hardly believe she’d had the nerve to say it. And from the open mouthed stare he gave her, he couldn’t believe it either.

“That escalated pretty quickly.”

“Let’s face it, we’ve been fighting all week over trivial things. Soon it will be more serious things then it will get ugly. If we stop now we can avoid the unpleasantries.” She felt a sense of relief as the words tumbled from her mouth.

“Fine, if that’s what you think is best. I think you’re making a huge mistake, but I can’t control your actions.” He stood to leave, crossing the room to the front door where he turned to face her one last time. “When you see how wrong you are don’t come begging for me to take you back.”

As he walked out she took a sip of wine and thought to herself “And he thinks my friends are melodramatic.”

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