And The Silver Spoon
Oh God, you blurt out. Im so sorry, you insist.
She scoffs, shaking her head. You hastily close the window behind you and kneel in front of her, taking her hand.
You try to explain that you completely forgot. You didnt do it on purpose.
Purposeful or not, Im still hurt, Franny argues back. You feel like an idiot.
You beg her to let you make it up to her tomorrow, so long as she stitches you up tonight.
She stares ahead distantly, making a decision. Your heart stops.
Wait, Fran, you say, trying to reason with her as she stands suddenly and makes her way for the door.
She tells you there wont be a tomorrow. You are hot on her heels as you ask her what she means.
She tells you shes done. You ask what shes done with.
She pauses in the doorway, deadpanning at you. You stare back desperately, but she doesnt budge.
Done being needed, she says. 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 whats 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.