I open my mouth and hear
his sigh. Nothing I say is the type of truth he will listen to or enough of a
lie to entertain him. It’s no surprise
he doesn’t understand me when I tell him I’m unhappy with our marriage.
Counselling? Are you freaking
insane?
No. Actually I’m not.
He looks at me like I’m
an alien that’s landed in the back yard.
You’ve a bee in your
bonnet! Why? Menopause? Empty nest? You’ve hatched some idea that will cost me
money? No. Over my dead body.
He isn’t sighing.
I’ve got the right to
remain silent.
