Love You Less
I arrive home early from work to find candles burning, romantic music, rose petals strewn across our hardwood floor.
What? You were never this romantic.
The sounds draw me to our bedroom, to you half-dressed with my best friend.
“Loves me not, I guess.”
You look up from kisses, drowsy with love. “Honey? You’re early. Um. I can explain.”
“Great. Now you can’t be mad at me for hitting your car.”
“What? When?” You start to get up. Now, you’re worried. You and that car.
“In about thirty seconds.” I wave and go. You were never that smart, either.
This is my weekly story for Friday Fictioneers, where ever week author Rochelle Wisoff-Fields gives us the prompt and we write 100 word stories to match. For more stories and to add your own, click the froggy!