“Don’t you love it, honey?” Misty beamed, almost bouncing out of her skimpy gym gear.
“What the hell is it?” Bruce groaned. A statue? Gym equipment? Dumbstruck, then he saw the price tag. Blimey! “She’s sending me broke. Now, I can’t even afford a good Chardonnay.
Tomorrow, he was having coffee with his ex-wife. At least, they had an understanding. She’s wasn’t interested in sex, and he had the emotional depth of a “dried lentil”. Even if he couldn’t go back, he wasn’t going forward.
There were worse things than being alone. Besides, he could always get a dog.
This has been another contribution for Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wishoff Fields and this week’s photo prompt comes from © Douglas M. MacIlroy.
By the way, are you taking part in the Blogging A-Z April challenge? If you are taking part, please leave a link in the comments below.
My theme is Writing Letters to Dead Artists. Yesterday, I wrote to American modernist, Georgia O’Keeffe and later today, I’ll be writing to Picasso. Here’s a link to last weekend’s Weekly Round-up.