This week's assignment was to write two paragraphs - same topic - but from a different POV - Point of View. Here are mine.
Everything seemed quite normal... Beth sat at the cluttered counter after their usual late breakfast, indulging herself in one last cup of morning coffee, smoking just one last cigarette, and reading just one last chapter before tackling the stack of greasy, yellow-smeared breakfast dishes. Harv saw nothing amiss. He secretly wished at least one thing would change: his mother had been an excellent housekeeper - not words that came to mind when he thought about his wife. He had asked, begged, demanded, even threatened to leave... nothing worked, nothing! Over the last few years, she had withdrawn, had stopped doing almost everything she had once loved to do. She smoked, drank coffee, and read romance novels, a new one every day or two. Beyond that, she did only what she couldn't avoid. He still cared for her, he thought as he prepared to leave the house, but didn't love her as he once had. Maybe she would surprise him today... do something unexpected... Probably not. He tried to imagine where he'd live if he did move out... someplace clean, orderly, uncluttered... No point in daydreaming, he reminded himself. He had better get going if he wanted to finish all the errands on his list.
"Will you just hurry up and leave? Just go!" I silently screamed at him. "I can't sit here another day, pretending that everything is just peachy-keen." I forced myself to continue to sit in my usual spot, drinking coffee, smoking, and pretending to read that stupid book, waiting for him to leave. He'd be really pissed when he came home and found the stack of greasy breakfast dishes still in the sink. S.O.B. hadn't even noticed my ugly mood. All he wanted of me was to be a devoted and perfect little housewife, but that would only stop the fighting; it wouldn't fix the real problems. After 45 years of feeding him, doing his laundry, and raising his children, I was damned tired of being his personal handmaiden. Sorry, Harv, but I'm not your mother, I never will be an ideal wife, and I'm damned if I want to try to anymore! I waited until I heard his car start up the gravel drive, then carried the suitcase and boxes, hidden in the loft last week, to the car. The note I left him said I'd be back late... the hell I would. Not late. Not at all! Clean the damned house yourself, Harvey! That's all that really matters to you, isn't it?