The Divorce


Liked the story? Share it by clicking here.

This was possibly the last time we would ever sit so close to one another. This was bad, but I didn't seem to recall why. The memories we held onto for so long were fading. The last, and the first, moment I remember was our introduction. Even that was disappearing, as if the ink was simply disappearing off a page.

Engagement parties do nothing but depress the single, as I was all those years ago. The happy couple swaying to the beat, friends and family trying to justify the addition to their circle by telling embarrassing stories, and especially my much-too-tight tie.

I sat at the bar with my drink. While loosening my tie, I saw her a few tables over. She seemed to search for something that would never come, and a thought crossed my mind: What if I was what she was searching for? Maybe it was the drinks, or maybe it was love at first sight. Some law of attraction, I forget which, made me walk over to her seat. She had one too many buttons open and I often found my eyes fixed there through the night.

“Of Mice and Men,” I pointed to the tattered library book next to her purse. “Are you a fan of Steinbeck, or a newcomer to his Nobel-winning genius?”

“I’m a fan of well-written shorts, and by chance, Steinbeck’s authored a few.” She eyed me dubiously, as she often did years later when I was holding back a surprise.“You could say I enjoy things that get to the point without all of the missed opportunities.”

“Take this opportunity to watch horror movies late at night on the couch, to read side by side on lazy Sundays, and to have morning runs before work with me.” I forgot what drink I was having, but at this point, I would guess it was pretty strong. “I’d especially take the opportunity to spend way too much time under the covers with me.”

She paused for a moment. It seemed like forever to me. “How about we start with another drink and maybe work our way back to my place?”

That was a great night. Why it was so great, I don’t remember.

It’s time, she nodded at me from across the table. I scrawled my signature using the last ink of our memories. Now, it was all gone.

Story and words: R.Silver

Concept & production: Adam Westbrook