Jack opened the door to their apartment, put down his briefcase, placed his keys on the credenza, and walked into the kitchen, where he saw his wife, Carole, standing with her hands on her hips and a stern look on her face. “Hi, honey,” he said and started to walk over to her to give her a peck on the cheek.
“Don’t you ‘hi honey’ me,” she said. “I want a divorce.”
Jack was stunned. “What? You want a divorce? Where is this coming from?”
“Oh, Jack,” Carole said, her eyes tearing up. “It used to be so easy, living here with you. You were light and breezy and I knew just what to do. But now I’m so unhappy, and I feel like a fool.”
“Carole, please, you can’t do this to us,” Jack pleaded. “I can fix this, I swear I can.”
“It’s too late, Jack,” Carole said. “I really hoped that we could make it. But something inside has died, and I can’t hide it anymore. I just can’t fake it.”
Jack moved toward Carole to try to embrace her, but Carole held up her hand, signaling Jack to stop. Then she picked up a wooden spoon, held it up to her mouth like a microphone, and began to sing.
Written for Paula Light’s Thursday Inspiration prompt, where the theme is “late.”