Not Talking

“It’s not about you,” he said irritably.

“When you’re not talking to me, it sure feels like it is,” she said.

“Sometimes I just don’t want to talk.”

“You felt like talking last night, when I wanted to sleep.”

“Well, sometimes I do that.”

She turned away, clattering dishes into the sink. He went to get a clean dish towel from the linen closet.

When he came back in, her shoulders were narrowed with anxiety, her head down over the sink.

“I had a bad day at work, is all,” he said. “There’s a bug in the new software program and we can’t figure out why. It’s driving me nuts.”

She looked up, tears and laughter in her eyes simultaneously. “Is that all? I thought you were mad at me because I brought work home tonight.”

“Is that all?” he asked, grinning at her.

Copyright ©2013 Loretta Miles Tollefson


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