Mary was fed up with Bob and Bob was just plain fed up. He got up from the breakfast table and stomped out the door, letting it slam behind him. Mary followed him right out, berating him the whole way. Same old litany of charges, Bob had them memorized by now. When he reached the shop door, Bob shouted over his shoulder “Mary, stop right there. You ain’t about to follow me into my shop with that nagging.” He slammed the door in her face and turned on the overhead fan, drowning out the sound of her voice.
Mary turned around and stomped back into the house, locking all the doors behind her. She pulled out her broom and viciously swept away the morning, grumbling and cursing.
Later that afternoon, when Bob came in from the shop, he found Mary asleep on the couch. Her gray hair was falling around her face, wrinkled now from years in the southern sun. Her mouth was wide open and drool trickled down her chin as she snored away. Mary woke when Bob’s scraggly mustache tickled her skin. She heard him whisper under his breath as he bent down to kiss her lips, “Mary, I do love you so.”

Copyright © 2005 Anna Clay