He hugs me a little gruffly, with the awkwardness of somebody who no longer remembers how to do it.
'Come here, darling. Let's have a hug. I never see you anymore. These days you seem to live your own life.'
I stiffen a little, then pat his back affectionately. He is the father of my children.
'We never watched 'Sleepless in Seattle', did we?', he reminds me.
My ironing marathon never ends. I don't mind watching a movie whilst my family's clothes disappear into the steam and come out looking preppy.
So it's settled for Seattle.
I do the ironing. I watch the movie.
He reads the newspaper.
Why do I feel guilty?
homebird
'cos you have read me