Monday, 17 April 2017


It happened in the emergency room.

She’d not said anything during the drive, just turned on her driving playlist to mask the sound of my blood dripping slowly off my arm onto the towel over my legs. I came close to gathering the courage to say something, anything, several times, but each time I’d stop, either because I’d shift in my seat and pain would shoot up my arm, or just because I lost the courage.

Once we arrived and I was checked in, as they began treatment, I was asked if my wife had done this.

I was silent.

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