“A dozen roses please. Make the card out to Anne.”
“She’s a lucky woman” the florist said giving him the bouquet.
He hailed a cab and made his way to her house. He hadn’t spent much time with her for a few weeks and flowers always helped her to forgive him.
Back home, Sarah put dinner in the oven. She had made his favourite tonight. She had seen him trying for the past few weeks and had found hope again in making their marriage work. She called him but was forwarded to voicemail.
Across town he was already eating desert.