The lawn needed mowing. She always liked it neat and would never have let it get this long. He was sitting on the sofa with his eyes closed, and she wasn’t sure if he knew she was there, or even if he was awake. She moved between the furniture, picking things up and putting them back down. Her eyes settled briefly on the framed pictures, but she didn’t pick them up. The kitchen table had a yellow gingham cover draped over it, unused, it’s folds still visible from a life sitting in a cupboard at the bottom of the towels. It was far too big for the table.  She stopped, trailed her finger along it.

“You always did hate that cover,” he said

“Yes. I suppose you’ve put it there to annoy me,” she said.

“No, I put it there to please me,” he said.

“Why are you doing this Patrick?” she said.

“What’s it to you?” he said.

“I still have to live here,” she said

“You don’t live here. You live there,” he said.

“You know what I mean,” she said.

“You left me Ann,” he said.

“Should I have stayed?” she said. She sat down on the sofa. It seemed such a natural thing to do. He picked up his cigarette packet, took out a couple and gave her one. He lit it for her and she leaned her head back and sucked in the nicotine.

“Why, Patrick?” she said. And for the first time she really looked at him.

* * * * *

Full story available in the book Oor Ain Voice by Write Enuff! at the following link: