It all looked familiar.
The dust on the lampshades. The dirt on the cooker. The sharp edges on the large table that always got in the way.
I’d been in that kitchen before. Too many times.
I pulled my hand away from his. ‘I can’t do this.’
‘What about my second chance?’ he spluttered. ‘Things are going to be different this time…’
Then I saw the clock on the wall stuck at 3 o’clock. The batteries still hadn’t been changed.
I said goodbye and walked out of that kitchen for the very last time.Follow @jessieansons
Friday Fictioneers is a challenge set by Rochelle each week where writers from around the world post 100 word stories based on a common photo prompt. For more information, and to read other stories, visit Rochelle’s page here.