Too Old to Start Again

Sunday

“Your biggest achievement this year?”

“That I haven’t shot myself yet.”

His voice had never sounded so cold. But she remained unaffected by his words.

“You’re so predictable. Always so dramatic.”

She sent him a reassuring smile.

“There is must be something interesting, bold or new you’ve done this year.”


Sunday

He hesitated then spoke slowly.

“I thought about what you said.”

She was doing her nails.

“About what I’ve achieved this year.”

She nodded without looking in his direction.

“I bought a gun.”

He got her attention this time.

“You didn’t.”

He nodded.

“W-why?” she trembled. “When?”

“Last Wednesday. I kept it well hidden in a locked closet. Not easily reached so I wouldn’t be easily tempted.”

“Why? Damn it, what’s wrong with you?” She was going crazy. He looked away.


Sunday

“Maybe we’re just not meant to be happy.”

“Maybe we’re just not meant to be happy together.”

He was looking down.

“I’m not sure I know I can do that.”

“You’ll adapt. I promise.”


Sunday

“Are you still here?”

There was no answer on the other side.

“Please don’t do this.”

“I’m too old to start again.”

 

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