April 19, 2015 § 2 Comments
I watch my husband as he dines at our favorite cafe. He doesn’t see me. The woman sitting across from him is young—lemon-yellow wild curls, high cheek bones. Who is she? He’s wearing that smile. The smile I gave him the day we met. My heart is pummeling my chest cavity. I can’t breathe.
I fall into a chair at an unclean table. I glance down at the newspaper someone left behind— a tiny face smiles back. It’s me. When did I die? Shaking, I look back at Steve knowing it’s the last time. That smile. My God, that smile.