Monday, September 17, 2018

Perfection in 10-15 minutes

He had to admit it. He'd been phoning it in ever since. Sandwiches worked, and his stove had stood cold for months. He still couldn't turn it on.

A memory painfully made its way into his brain, unwanted. All around a table, a rich sauce, flatbread studded with garlic, pasta. All together.

It wasn't supposed to take this long. He was supposed to pick himself up, he was supposed to move on. He wasn't supposed to leave his kids at their grandparents so long. He wasn't supposed to be making sandwiches for supper. Adults didn't do that.

He was supposed to move on. He didn't want to move on.

But putting the peanut butter back on the shelf wasn't moving on, not really.

It was just...dinner. Just dinner. 

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