Every day was the same and he would sit at the breakfast table staring into space whilst occasionally gnawing at a piece of toast.
“What are you doing darling?” his wife would ask though she expected no meaningful answer.
“Sleeping” he replied and she, knowing it was a lie made nothing of it. There seemed little point these days as they had drifted so far apart as to hardly engage in conversation any more preferring the METHOD of writing notes to each other like:
“Gone to dentist
or “Gone to Mother’s Union
meeting finally over the ten o’ clock News.
Until one day she found a note from him saying
“Gone out with my lover and won’t be taking Evensong tonight
They never found the knife that she stabbed him with .