Distance

Parking the car, the house looks too quiet. Walking in, I look around the fear building within me that she has left. Surely, she wouldn’t run while I am away. Checking the house, she isn’t there. Sitting down, I wait, hoping she will come home soon.

Sitting here watching the time pass, I wonder if she will come home, the sound of the door alerting me she is home. I want to run to her, but I won’t. Sitting, I wait for her to come to the kitchen. Walking in, she looks at me and carries on towards the kettle turning it on.

Her silence is worse than her screaming. It is like she has given up and doesn’t want to fight for us anymore.

“We need to talk.” I look at her waiting for her to acknowledge that I am here. Instead, she carries on making her drink. Sitting down at the table, she looks at me. Who is she? The Maria I fell in love with seems to have changed, maybe we got married too young.

“I am sorry, for everything I did, for the things I said.” I wait, sitting and looking at her. She