Broken

“What’s for dinner, Marje?”

Perhaps this was the last straw, hearing her husband Bill ask her this for what was likely the millionth time in their twenty years together. Perhaps it was the nonchalant way he asked it, as if she had at any point said to him that she was going to prepare dinner, or as though he had no reason to believe that maybe he should make it tonight.

Then again, it was possible he’d done nothing wrong, and she was just incredibly tired from eighteen years of marriage to a man she’d stopped loving thirteen years ago. It was a long time to spend with a man you have no desire to waste even a second of your day with.

Whatever it was though, Margaret stopped. She’d been in the middle of taking a bowl out of the cupboard, and as he said this it fell to the floor, breaking into a million irretrievable pieces that reminded her of their marriage, and as she bent to pick up what she could and he remained on the same chair watching the football game, she suddenly stopped. Standing back up, Margaret turned, and walked out the back door, leaving her husband in the house they no longer shared, unaware that she wasn’t coming back.

Broken

SimplyKiersten

Joined May 2010

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Artist's Description

little bit of flash fiction

Artwork Comments

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