Glass Half Full
Started writing 2/6/18 but never finished... The cold breeze whistled by in the dark under the moon, rustling the dead leaves. The whistle intensified, then died down. He shifted his body on the sofa in hopes of finding some rest, but his mind kept replaying her insincerity and distance from the recent weeks. Everything always seemed so perfect. A good job, a house, a beautiful wife and daughter. Life was good. It seemed as if nothing could or should be going wrong, but her attitude told another story. She hadn't touched him in at least 2 months. The pain in his groin intensified each day, but that wasn't what hurt the most. It was his pride. Pride in knowing he had things under control; knowing he could provide, love, support and be enough. The man inside wanted to feel needed. But she no longer needed him. The wind intensified and slapped the window with a wild rage that brought with it hail that clanked against the house. The silhouette of the dead trees against the moonl...