She looked across the room at her husband, sprawled across the sofa, dozing off as he watched TV.
For a moment, she tried to think of him as he was when he was a young man. When he was handsome and fit, when he was confident and ambitious, when he was fun and energetic.
She had loved him then, madly. When they were together, she was euphoric. When they were apart, she ached for him.
Over time, though, he changed. His drive waned, and his looks faded. He retired and traded his suits for sweats. He stopped shaving. He seldom left home. He was quiet and always seemed a little sad.
To his wife, he had become a colossal disappointment. He bore little resemblance to the man she had married. She could hardly look at him anymore. She barely spoke to him.
Still, he loved her. Once he brought her flowers. The next day, he found them in the trash. He didn’t bring her flowers again.
One morning, when he didn’t come downstairs, she called up to him. When he didn’t answer, she went up to his room. He was in bed, under the covers.
“Wake up, you bum!” she yelled from the doorway.
But he didn’t move.
Now she lives alone. She wishes she had asked her husband how he was doing. She wishes she had kept those flowers.
For a moment, she tried to think of him as he was when he was a young man. When he was handsome and fit, when he was confident and ambitious, when he was fun and energetic.
She had loved him then, madly. When they were together, she was euphoric. When they were apart, she ached for him.
Over time, though, he changed. His drive waned, and his looks faded. He retired and traded his suits for sweats. He stopped shaving. He seldom left home. He was quiet and always seemed a little sad.
To his wife, he had become a colossal disappointment. He bore little resemblance to the man she had married. She could hardly look at him anymore. She barely spoke to him.
Still, he loved her. Once he brought her flowers. The next day, he found them in the trash. He didn’t bring her flowers again.
One morning, when he didn’t come downstairs, she called up to him. When he didn’t answer, she went up to his room. He was in bed, under the covers.
“Wake up, you bum!” she yelled from the doorway.
But he didn’t move.
Now she lives alone. She wishes she had asked her husband how he was doing. She wishes she had kept those flowers.
