Marie and Grace
Early morning, Marie woke up next her husband. Her head felt like an anvil. She wandered into the kitchen. She made breakfast. At the door, she watched her husband leave in his truck. She made eye-contact with the woman (Grace) across the street. It was the same old story: after the honeymoon wore off, her husband lost interest in her. Grace seemed to understand. The same hollowness framed her features. One day, Grace dropped by for a cup of sugar. They sat at the dining table together. On impulse, Marie held her hand. They share a moment of comfort. Grace went home. The next day, they sat together in the living room; Grace rested her hand on her knee. Then Grace left after an hour. A year later: Grace had divorced her husband. Marie was …