And The Silver Spoon
"Not tonight," you sigh. Like she absolutely exhausts you. "Please, Fran, not tonight. Just fix me up and we'll talk tomorrow."
She scoffs. She stands very suddenly.
There won't be a tomorrow."
You are hot on her heels as you ask her what she means. She just huffs.
"I'm done, Michael."
"Done with what?"
She pauses in the doorway, deadpanning at you. You stare back, but she doesn't budge.
"Done watching you care for no one but yourself."
You watch her intently as she drapes her coat over the arm and steps onto the stoop.
The door slams. You stand in silence for a second, numb to what's just happened.
You tiredly stumble into the kitchen. The anniversary dinner Franny made for you both, the one you were supposed to make, is sitting on the counter in neat Tupperware containers, cold. A bouquet of flowers lies stem-up in the trash can.
Franny is gone. You are alone.