I was sitting at the kitchen table thumbing through a magazine when he came downstairs and reached for a cup and the coffee pot. The pot was almost empty, of course. I stopped making his coffee the day he moved in his toothbrush.
I barely glanced at him, but started the morning routine as if I still cared, "Good morning. Sleep well?"
Without looking I knew he would be standing there, frowning and wrinkling his brow as if he were trying to remember. Looking at the empty pot like coffe was going to make itself.
"What a dumbass," I thought to myself, taking a sip of coffee from my cup. "I can't put up with him one minute longer."
"I've got something to tell you," I said abruptly. "I found somebody new to take your place."
"Wh what?" he stammered.
"I want you out of the house by the time I come home from work." I continued.
He stopped me with a light kiss on my forehead. "No problem," he said softly, "I've found someone of my own."
He set down his empty cup, turned, and walked away.
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