250 Words with One Syllable

January 9, 2008
By Morgan Henshaw Henshaw, Culver, IN

“Where were you last night?” I ask this to him. He tells me, “I had to work late.” If I could just trust this tale. My heart beats fast and my mind runs wild with thoughts. Is there some other girl; A girl on the side? I count the days he’s been late, but not the days when he was out late with me. There are too many times that I can’t count that high. Have I left him lost? Our love is a loss. It was more than ten years ago, April first, that we both said “I do. In sick and in health, our love will last till the end of time.” Our kids have grown to be famed adults. Rich and full of time, it will be many years till they must look at us and help the old. While I thought we had a good kin, how could he be with some other girl? I know my form is flawed, I hoped love could keep us as one. I hoped love would beat what had yet to come; he is a cheat. I say once more, “Where were you last night?” He lets out a small breath of air. Teeth clenched, eyes sharp, he stares at a blank hole in the wall. Like a hawk, I track the scent of her. He says, “We need to talk.” My heart beats fast like the wheels of a train on the steel. Sparks fly from my eyes. I grow white as my lip jerks to let out the words, “Now, it is done. We, we are done.” As I walk to my room, I place a sheet just by the door. As the years have passed, I have looked away for the snags, the glitch in our strong link as man and wife. The time has come to leave and start my new life. Single, I will be new once more to the world, but I will be full of love to start fresh.


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