En hustrus refleksioner

He sits down and reads the paper, forgetting all about my existence. Typical, we had planned such a lovely night out, we went to my favourite restaurant and afterwards, we went to our spot, the hill where we shared our first kiss, and much more. It had potential to be perfect, but as always, he couldn’t be bothered enough to even look at me. And now we are back here, in the confines of our lovely suburban home, where still, I am invisible to him, all he cares about is his bloody job and his bloody newspaper. God knows he is absolutely great with the kids, but when it comes to me, he couldn’t give a damn. Well, I suppose it isn’t so strange, every time I look in the mirror, I see the lines in my face getting clearer. The past is gone. It went by like dusk to dawn. But still, he must have some sort of affection left for me somewhere in there, behind the serious businessman façade. Because I know that he is more than that. He used to care so much, about everything. If I was sad one day and I didn’t want to talk about it, he would know, just from the slightest glance at my face. And when we used to travel all over, everything was so fascinating to him, and he would take pictures of things with his analog camera, he would even take pictures of me, whenever, in the bath, in the mornings eating breakfast, when I had just woken up, I told him stop, because I would just have woken up, my makeup was smeared and my eyes were puffy. But he always reassured me, that I was the most beautiful woman in the world to him, and every time he said it he was sincerer than the last time, and I believed him every time. I go and sit by the piano, and play a sad song, to distract him from whatever dial tone article he is reading in the financial times about the economy or whatever. He reads on. So, I pick up the pace and make the rhythm faster, he reads on. At this point I am hammering away at every single black and white key. He looks up, and says calmly; “Would you mind turning it down a notch my dear”.