As she kneels amongst the shattered plant-pots, cradling his grizzled head in her hands, she realises she can’t remember when they last touched each other.
Distant sirens herald the approaching ambulance.
“Hang on, Joseph.”
Later, much later, she climbs into his bed in the room next to hers, wondering when they opted for separate beds, then separate rooms. She pulls his quilt around her, inhaling his familiar muskiness, wondering whether he was ever lonely in here.
Would he have said?
She’s puzzled that she doesn’t know.
And wonders whether she may be given a chance to find out.
This week’s picture from J R Hardy reminded me of a conservatory. It also reminded me of Stephen King’s Dome, but I decided not to go there. Thanks to Rochelle for her leadership of Friday Fictioneers.
castelsarrasin 
I hope she gets the chance. A shame it takes such a thing to remind us of what matters to us. Tenderly written.
LikeLike
Thanks for reading, Iain.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Your story is a wonderfully nuanced way of questioning the love between the couple. I hope your MC has a chance to find out her husband’s feelings, and to rebuild the physical affection between them. It’s so important and so valuable.
LikeLike
Thanks for reading, Penny.
LikeLike
Dear Sandra,
For some of us there’s a lot of truth in this. Touching story in your excellent style.
Shalom,
Rochelle
LikeLike
Many thanks, Rochelle. Hope you’re over your cold now.
LikeLike
Brilliantly done, Sandra. You paint a picture of love, real love, that has become taken for granted
LikeLike
Thanks, Neil. Glad you liked it.
LikeLike
Such yearning and sadness in this piece. Well done.
LikeLike
Lovely picture, Josh. Thanks for reading.
LikeLike
Regret is probably the most awful of emotions, they are a result of one’s actions (or lack of). Pain and anger in contrast are usually out of our control.
LikeLike
I agree with you. Regret is infinitely more difficult to deal with.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Jings, Sandra, this reminded me of Billie Holiday’s Gloomy Sunday, also known as the Suicide Song.
Beautifully told, of course, but a bit light on laughs!
LikeLike
🙂 Rich coming from someone who disposes more bodies than most Friday Fictioneers can dream of in a lifetime!
LikeLike
Will they have the chance to put things right, or has the realisation come too late? A beautifully written piece once again Sandra.
LikeLike
Thanks for reading, Keith.
LikeLiked by 1 person
This was so beautifully written, Sandra. You do have a gift for bringing us into a story. And this one is so real…
LikeLike
Thanks, Dae glad you liked it.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Very much so.
LikeLike
Sandra, I found this to be warmly touching and realistic. Terry and I have joined the ranks of the elderly who simply can’t find restful sleep in the same bed. I remember when we couldn’t WAIT to spend all our nights in the same bed! Life changes, but we don’t have to let everything change.
I think we’ll at least start the night in the same bed tonight 🙂
LikeLike
I know what you mean. My husband seemed to be unreasonably grumpy about my turning the television on at 3am, or working on my laptop/tab alongside him. And that’s before we start apportioning blame for snoring…
LikeLiked by 2 people
This is a chilling reminder of how easily the thing we take for granted can be taken away from us.
LikeLike
Yes, last year this lesson was brought home to me very forcefully when a couple of long time friends experienced precisely this.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Sandra, your story is touching. Too often these things are realized only when it’s too late.
LikeLike
Indeed they are. Thanks for reading.
LikeLiked by 1 person
You’re welcome.
LikeLike
A touching and realistic depiction of tragic loss.
LikeLike
Thanks for reading, Oneta.
LikeLike
A great story, a lovely use of the prompt.
LikeLike
Thanks, Michael.
LikeLike
Hopefully she’ll have her chance. Very well written!
LikeLike
Thanks Russell.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Such realisation hits when it may be too late to change things. Nice one!
LikeLike
Thank you!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Good one, brought tears.
LikeLike
Many thanks
LikeLiked by 1 person
I’ve tried to visit your story this week but the link doesn’t seem to be working.
LikeLike
Taking things for granted for too long, letting themselves drift apart… I hope she has a chance to find out.
LikeLike
Hopefully. Thanks for reading.
LikeLiked by 1 person
A tender story – not all marriages are made in heaven, but she obviously still loves him.
LikeLike
Thanks Liz.
LikeLike
Very tenderly told…a tale of regret that could still turn around…such beautiful writing Sandra
LikeLike
Many thanks, Neel.
LikeLike
i think it’s time to press reset button in their relationship. it maybe tough but it’s worth the effort.
LikeLike
Good that there may be an opportunity for that. Thanks for reading.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I agree with everyone else, this is a brilliant piece of short fiction! A raw and unadulterated look at love.
LikeLike
Thanks so much for reading.
LikeLike
My pleasure!
LikeLike
Totally crushing, Sandra. You tell us a story of decades of growing apart, of a developing coldness that neither of them thought much of until it was almost too late. Heartbreaking, truly. Wonderful story
LikeLike
Many thanks, Lynn. Always good to see your name popping up on the squares. 🙂
LikeLike
My pleasure Sandra
LikeLike
What a perfectly poignant first sentence. The shattered pots indicate a fall, although a murder mystery could begin the same…
From such a sad beginning you have wrung out more than a drop of hope, and I expect there will be many more years of happiness for this couple, if the woman gets her way. And I expect she will.
LikeLike
Thanks, and pleased you enjoyed it.
LikeLike
Yes, I can see how they grew physically apart, yet emotionally she was always there.
LikeLike
A little bit of emotional house-keeping needed. 🙂 Thanks for reading.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I found your story emotionally powerful. You evoke so much emotional distance obliquely, in a wonderfully written story.
LikeLike
Thank you, I’m glad yu enjoyed it.
LikeLike
I wonder if it’s all too late. Drifting apart to a point when there is no way back… and maybe just for the comfort of not hearing him snoring.
LikeLike
Powerful story. It really touches a cord.
LikeLike