'I blamed it on the dog'
Having pretty much finished my end of year reports (yeah) and my 50K (whoopee) thought I'd do this week's.
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“I’ll be home by seven!” You’d promised. You were gone before I’d made it out of bed. Yawning, I went downstairs to make myself a cup of tea, hoping that you might have left me at least a clue that you’d remembered.
Not strictly true; one dirty mug on the table.
I waited in all day just in case.
Seven o’clock came and went. The lovingly prepared meal scraped into the bin, the wine drunk.
Half past nine, “Sorry I’m late. What’s for tea?”
I blamed it on the dog as I headed for the stairs and ripped the card in two.