by Marc Littman
whiskey sour
“I never noticed that
about you,” I let an errant comment escape.
“After 12 years of
marriage you discovered I’m left-handed?” my wife Sheila volleyed
back.
“No, I noticed that last
year. Something in your eyes.”
“How alluring they are?
At least you’re paying attention to me,” she smirked.
“Hard not to when you’re
stuck together for months at home during quarantine,” I slipped again and
fumbled to regain control. “I mean being a workaholic I haven’t been around
enough to notice you. Sorry.”
And then I turned away
quickly for fear I’d see the resentment in Sheila’s eyes
again.
About the author
Marc's short stories have been published in a variety of publications from
Entropy Squared and Flash Fiction Magazine to the Saturday Evening Post. He has also penned two novels and is an emerging playwright. He lives in Los
Angeles.
No comments:
Post a Comment