An absolutely bored wife stared right across the table. Her husband was still fingering the phone. An affair? She wondered. No. He is too clean for that. But all these apps, old friends, football.
"I will just use the restroom and come back." She nodded.
He came back to the phone.
"Do you have 100 rs?" She took the money and gave it.
He walked out and bought cigarettes. Came back again to the phone.
Well, she kept staring. Not knowing where this would end, or begin even. Tears hurried to flow down, but she controlled them. That heart ache and tightness was back. This was an everyday affair. No conversations. Even if there were, it had stopped exciting either of them. She had devotedly followed football for his sake. Listened to new genres of music. Read politics and developed viewpoints on subjects that would interest him. But it seemed inadequate. He went back to the phone.
Boredom crept in, and that emptiness was back again. The heartache increased. She felt it would explode and pieces of her grief would scatter around. No one would pick it up. No one would even know.
