"Hello, Darling," I said as I walked in the door.

"What's your problem?" she replied.

"What a day," I said, as I took off my hat and coat and hung them behind the door. "Anything exciting happen today?"

"Why do you always have to be such a jerk?" she quickly replied.

"That's nice," I said. I crossed the room and sat down in front of the TV. "We'll be having guests for dinner tomorrow night."

"I've had it with you," she said. "This relationship is on the brink of collapse."

"Mmmmmm... dinner smells good, dear," I said. "Pot roast?"

"You are the most inconsiderate bastard I have ever met," she retorted. "You never listen to what I say. You are always off in your own world. Don't you realize I have needs? I am a person, not just your convenient household slave, always smiling with dinner on the stove and a drink in hand. You never stop to think how I might feel. In fact, you never stop to think about anything but yourself. When was the last time you asked me how I felt and meant it? When was the last time you cared?"

"God, the office is just frying my brains lately. If I don't get some time off soon, I'm going to short circuit," I replied. "Are you listening to me?"

"Your daughter is doing so well in school," she replied. "She is almost potty trained."

"My God, you don't give a damn about what I'm going through, do you?" I snarled. "Is that all you think about, your little life?"

"I'm having my friends over on Friday to play cards," she replied. "You should make some of that fish spread everyone loves." She picked up her drink and moved toward the end of the couch.

"You are so damn shallow!" I spat, quickly moving in her way. "All you ever see is your own problems. I go to this damn job day after day, dealing with the assholes there breathing down my neck, and all you think about is 'when can I go shopping?' and 'Hmmmm...I just don't have enough shoes.' You don't give a damn about my thoughts and fears. When was the last time you reached out to me with a smile on your face and told me everything would be all right?"

"I want to take a creative writing class in the evenings," she said. "It would really help distract me from the boredom."

"That's it," I growled. "I have had as much from you as I can deal with. I'm moving out."

The ding of a timer broke the silence in the room. She stood up and meandered toward the kitchen, drink in hand.

"I think it's ready," she called, her voice ringing faintly metallic against the ceramic tile.

"Smells delicious, dear. Let's eat."

Copyright © 2000 Chris Jenkins All Rights Reserved

Chris Jenkins is a jaded technophile who doesn't know when to shut up. He is currently employed as a frame relay technician, doing his part to ensure the stream of downloadable porn is uninterrupted.