Stella barely made contact with me throughout the night, only saying words when we were at the dinner table.
“This lacks salt, pass the shaker.” “The steak is extra dry, no moisture whatsoever.”
I offered to make her another but she simply grunted and walked away from the table; that would be the last time we were in the same room. When it came time to sleep, I knocked on our bedroom door, asking if it was okay for me to enter.
“Sleep on the couch tonight,” she answered.
I wanted to believe that she cared, even just a bit.
Copyright © 2019 by Luka Tatsujo
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