She’d left before they had even finished the starters, her half-eaten dolma still sitting there in front of him, taunting him, another metaphor of their failed marriage. Half consumed and ready for the bin.
It had meant to be a clear-the-air lunch, after the trial separation.
He’d only intended for it to be a light-hearted remark, how she had suddenly gone all healthy during the split, by ordering the vegetarian dolma. After all, he’d noticed she’d lost weight and was doing her hair differently too.
“Oh, so just because I fancied something light to eat, I must be screwing someone else? Is that what you’re saying, Johnathan?”
He sighed. “It was just a joke, Laura.”
“Isn’t that the problem? You excuse everything as just a joke.”
“I think you’re taking a light-hearted comment the wrong way.”
“But, yes, Johnathan, I am. It’s why I came.”
He looked puzzled. “Yes, you are what? Taking it the wrong way?”
“No, I’m seeing someone else now. Someone who isn’t jealous. Someone with less anger issues, and,” she said, pushing her plate away. “Someone who fills me better than this fucking limp dick dolma does!”
Johnathan glared, noticing the waiter looking over, smirking. “Stop fucking embarrassing me, Laura.”
“Embarrassing you? How typically selfish of you, Johnathan. That’s why it’s over!” She stood and stormed out of the restaurant.
The waiter approached the table. “All finished, sir?”
Johnathan clenched his fist, stood and punched the waiter full in the face. “You taking the piss, mate?”
My daily micro fictions are no longer than 250 words and are inspired by word-of-the-day at www.dictionary.com
The word of the day for 21 November 2022 was “dolma“. Photo from my street archives. See more of my street photography at www.thatdarrenlehane.uk
All stories & photography © 2022, DBA Lehane. All rights reserved. Please do not use or reproduce in any way without the expressed written permission of the author. Please contact me.
DBA Lehane 