Pause

"So...I was just wondering...were you going to take the day off from work on our anniversary?"

"I don't know...I don't think I can take any days off. What I have to do in my life doesn't matter. What they want me to do there is all that matters."

Pause.

Tomorrow comes. I'm making dinner thinking about those words, trying to find some better way of interpreting them, and a ceramic dishes slips from my hands. I'm still thinking about it as I miss a tiny fragment of dish. I finally stop thinking about it when said tiny fragment ends up in my foot and I'm in incredible pain considering how tiny the piece actually was.

There's blood on the kitchen floor. At least the fish came out amazing.

Staring at my plate I ask you what exactly you meant by that.

The typical answer. It's just a busy time. It won't be like this forever. It's what I have to do to keep my job.

Sure. I'll swallow that. It's exactly what I've come to expect from you.

It's still nice to dream that maybe someday you wouldn't ever say something so careless, and if you did...you'd know what a real apology sounds like and give me one.

Maybe I'm just too sensitive.

Either way...does it really matter? It always comes down to the fact that reality tells me, you're the best of what's around.

Resume.