“You quit your job?”
“Yep.”
I look at my wife of thirteen years. See furrowed brows and downturned lips. Disappointed yet again. Nothing new.
“I don’t get it.” Alison gives me her back as she looks out the window. Not focused on anything, just not on me.
We’re facing each other again.
Ali folds her arms, shakes her head.
“What’s to get? I quit. End of story.”
The palm of her hand lands on my jaw without remorse. Eyes flash in front of me like they never knew me. “Thanks for making this easy.”
And out the door she goes.
Note: I am doing a personal challenge to grow consistent in my writing by committing to writing 100 stories in 100 days only using 100 words (or less).
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