Sure things had been strained. They both had deadlines to meet at work. They both wanted career changes. Lauren resented the hours it took her to do things that were too small to ever be acknowledged. The school lunches and the tidying. She hated how much time she spent picking up things her family had left wherever it was they’d last used them.
Mickey knew all that. But he was entitled to be cut some slack. God knows Lester was giving him so much grief at work. He didn’t need it at home too.
They slumped into bed exhausted most nights. His kisses seemed more symbolic than passionate. She remembered back to when they couldn’t keep their hands off each other.
Another early morning. Lester left in a flap. ‘I’m late for a meeting. Why are we so disorganised?’
‘We?’
Lester slammed the door and gunned out of the driveway. On the kitchen bench his phone rang—its ringtone a snippet from their more carefree past.
Lauren ignored it.
The ringing stopped. A tone indicated an arriving message. Another followed. Then another. Lauren picked it up—maybe she could get a message to him at work. She glanced at the screen.
Where are you Darling? Plane’s boarding in 15. D. xxxooo.
2011—Richard Holt / small stories about love (smallstoriesaboutlove.wordpress.com)
small stories about love 