Words For Wednesday

Words for Wednesday will be here for the Month of April. All the way from Newfoundland, Canada, which has its own time zone - 30 minutes ahead of the rest of Canada. Thanks as always to Elephant's Child for keeping this feast going. 

This meme was started by Delores a long time ago.  Computer issues led her to bow out for a while.  The meme was too much fun to let go, and now Words for Wednesday is provided by a number of people and has become a movable feast. 

Essentially the aim is to encourage us to write.  Each week we are given a choice of prompts: which can be words, phrases, music or an image.   What we do with those prompts is up to us:  a short story, prose, a song, a poem, or treating them with ignore...  We can use some or all of the prompts, and mixing and matching is encouraged.

Some of us put our creation in comments on the post, and others post on their own blog.  I would really like it if as many people as possible joined into this fun meme, which includes cheering on the other participants.  If you are posting on your own blog - let me know so that I, and other participants, can come along and applaud.

Here are the words for this week, In two batches with an image in the middle, use some or all of the prompts.

Wardrobe

Silhouette

Sergeant

Dispensation

Placebo

Displeasure

Sympathy

Discretion

Good luck all!

Update (my take on the words)

Normally, Cat would never emerge from the wardrobe during daylight but the noises outside had forced him to abandon his discretion.  Through the window and murky fog, he could dimly perceive The Sergeant's silhouette making his noon rounds. He was filled with sympathy for the broken man allowing him a dispensation from normal human behavior.

The loss of Mrs. Sergeant had disrupted the entire household. Even Old Dog had gone off his feed and had ceased his only remaining hobby of making fun of Cat. It was a sad household. They offered each other placebos of pats and licks when their paths crossed, but their displeasure in each other's company in this time of interminable grief was evident.

Everyone just wanted to be alone. The Sergeant marching around outside, Old Dog moping in his basket by the fire and Cat hiding away in the wardrobe.

But today was different. The Sergeant had finally broken outside. He was weeping openly. Cat looked at Old Dog and flipped his tail. They slowly walked to the door.

The Sergeant came in, leaning his back against the closed door and then, bending down, enfolded Cat and Old Dog in his arms.

Words for Wednesday

I decided to participate again in this Wednesday stimulant. My creativity got fired up with these words so generously provided by Elephant's Child

This week's prompts are:

1. Deviled/which might also be spelt devilled*
2. Interdependence*
3. Watery*
4. Figs*
5. Zoom*
6. Headphones*

And/Or
1. Gargled*
2. Presence*
3. Yelling*
4. Andalusia*
5. Snowdrifts*
6. Exfoliate*

It was the worst party ever. She cursed her own presence and put it down to her interdependence on her boss, Almighty Violet, who just about ordered her staff here. She needed the pay cheque and Almighty Violet needed her organizational skills.

Internally, she yelled a silent scream of frustration, cursing the position of looking after Almighty Violet. Because that’s what it amounted to, one almighty cursed existence, out in the wilds of Andalusia trying desperately to improve on her Spanish. Yeah, so she lied on her CV.

She selected a devilled egg from the platter on the buffet and winced at its watery texture, faux mayonnaise. She moved her hand over the figs. They were just as she suspected, dry and shrivelled. What happened to paella and those lovely local dishes??

Bloody hell! was that Bart, her assistant, wearing tiny headphones, bopping his head and grinning at her? Tuned out. Clever boy. Hard to blame him.

Ah, her eyes zoomed in on the washroom across the hall. She disappeared quietly inside, closing the door. And rinsed out her glass of cheap white wine, gargling with water from the tap.

For this she had taken a razor and exfoliated herself? Even her legs which grew hairy in the winter and were excellent insulation against the snow drifts surrounding her cabin.

And six months more to go on her contract. She’d better find those Speaking Spanish Like a Pro podcasts. Ah Bart would know! Of course!

Words for Wednesday 5/ 22/2019

This month Elephant's Child is hosting Words for Wednesday with words used from contributors assisting. Please go visit her and participate or just enjoy the stories. It's a lot of fun.

Here are this weeks prompts.


Ironically*
Trove*
Reflecting*
Visit*
Dressing gown*
Buttercup*

And / or

Chronic*
Slippers*
Stretching*
Chuckled*
Technical*
Practice*

A continuaton of last week's as everyone seemed to really like Erla and her odd family (as do I!). And I asterisk the words as I use them so the flow of the story remains.

Once they were fed from the pantry and it was restocked, Erla stayed for her usual visit. She sat down with Merlin and Trilby in the parlour (they hated the term "living room" they were anglophone snobs). They liked being read to and had a particular interest in English best sellers of which there was a trove at home from her father's time there.

Her knapsack was stretched to the limit always between the cat-food, her lunch and the books. She had fetched their dressing gowns of course, Merlin's buttercup yellow, though, ironically it didn't suit him, and Trilby's plaid complete with their 8 matching slippers. Merlin had chronic affectations and insisted on using a long cigarette holder when she lit one of her mother's purloined cigarettes for him. He stretched and chuckled appreciatively on the damask sofa while Trilby rolled his eyes at him as he reclined on the footstool by Erla's feet.

They all agreed she had had left off at the beginning of Chapter 9 of P.D. James' latest. Trilby had a crush on Adam Dalgliesh, her poet detective, much to the amusement of Merlin, who held steadfast to the long practice of his hidden worship of Erla who seemed to him perfection itself, though technically, of course, there was never a chance of reciprocation, or was there? She seemed to split her devotion evenly between himself and Trilby but he secretly gloated over the gift of the cigarette she brought him and imagined this marked something extra in her feelings for him. And with this, in true British fashion, reflecting thoughtfully on the cigarette, he was content.

"The coast was battered by the remains of the shipwreck, planks and masts, deckchairs, shattered lifeboats," she began "And, could that be a body sprawled bloody and bleeding on the rocks?"

She looked at them both, her eyes round and frightened, her hand on her chest. They purred in absolute contentment. Another body. Wonderful.

Words for Wednesday - May 1st, 2019

Happy May Day everyone. This month's Words for Wednesday are hosted by Elephant's Child. Thank you EC! Please go visit her and either participate or enjoy the many different offerings and creative writing afforded by those who join in.

The week's words are:
Scuttle*
Rapper*
Drop*
Machine*
Flowery*
Button*



And/ or

Cashback"
Tipping*
Pizza*
Energy*
Unsubstantiated*
Clear*

Everything was fun and laughter until Button threw that weird rapper "Flowery Machine" on the I-Pod and then the sounds of police cars and rhyming curses and expletives reverberated through the Bose speakers and rippled off the walls and scuttled any semblance of camaraderie and their informal 5 year college reunion.

"Oh shit! Drop kick Button! Cut the noise!" screamed Maddie, bouncing to her feet and marching over to the stereo system and unplugging it.

"I'll have you know," said Button and not nicely,"Flowery Machine is a very good friend of mine and his music is gaining traction on radio stations, do I make myself clear?" He glared at Maddie and plugged in the system once more.

The friendly energy of friendships renewed in Button's large living room was destroyed, the seven of them mouthing the word "music?" incredulously at each other, regretting they had agreed to let him host this event knowing his weirdness and proclivity for annoying bands in the past.

Over the sound of Flowery Machine, Brent heard the doorbell ring and used the opportunity to turn down the volume as he passed by the sound system.

"Pizza!" he yelled at the others, gathering the cash back Domino coupons they had assembled, collecting their contributions. Maddie jumped up to help in carrying the four pizza boxes from the door.

"You didn't forget tipping I hope?" she said.

"No," said Brent, "Ten bucks for the driver. But seriously, speaking of tipping, if anyone deserves tipping over a....."

And here he stopped as he became aware of the sudden silence. The other five had surrounded Button, waving the plug of the infernal machine in his face.

"Your critique of my good friend, Flowery Machine, is unsubstantiated," Button protested,"You have no taste obviously."

"Listen buddy," said Brent,"I think we can put it to a vote here and now. This is the very last reunion you will host. And the very last time we listen to what you call music."

As Brent passed pizza slices around, Button sat off to the side red-faced and offended.

"We need to get you drunk," said Maddie who had always been the peacemaker,"Drunk and passed out quietly in a corner so we can have a decent catch-up with each other."

And they all laughed and whooped, breaking the tension.

And finally Button joined in, pouring himself another beer.

Words for Wednesday March 7, 2019

This month is being hosted by Delores at Muted Mumblings. Go visit her to participate or just read what others have written.

The word - and it is only one this week - is Time.

Measuring the Parenthesis

We live in the parenthesis of time.

Between the

Time we are born.
and the
Time we die.

And the parenthesis is all that matters.

And we never know the parenthesis, truly.

Because our beginnings are shrouded in fog and instinct,

Remembered by others now long dead.

And then Death moves unexpectedly for its moment with us,

Remembered by others still living.

So no one writes our full parenthesis.

Not even ourselves.

Words for Wednesday

Lissa at The Memory of Rain blogspot is hosting January's Word for Wednesday. Please go visit her to read what others have done with the cues. Her sound cue is here: And I confess to nearly falling asleep listening to it, it's so soothing.



And/or: it's going to rain today; chasing storms; umbrellas; charmed; a long journey; trains.
She'd always loved trains. She loved the isolated world they represented. She particularly enjoyed riding them alone. Being free to look around at the other passengers, the tiny dramas, the tears sometimes, the drunkenness, even the loutish behavior of football lads going home from a game. She loved the sound of the wheels on the tracks, the occasional darkness of a tunnel, the announcements, the dining car, the bar, the screeching into small stations along the route. But today was different. the carriage was steaming up from all the wet umbrellas and coats and hats. The rain outside was unrelenting, coming down in vertical streams, bouncing off station platforms.

Everybody's mood on board was affected it seemed, including her own. She supposed it was finally her turn now, her life had been charmed until a short time ago. Her high school sweetheart still in her life, wearing his promise ring, class valedictorian, university scholarships graduating with honours. And now? This long journey ahead of her, leaving a storm behind her, facing a possible storm ahead. Was she chasing the storm or the storm chasing her?

She'd done it. She'd broken up with James after 7 years. His face would haunt her for all time. Then she'd told her parents. They had been horrified and disgusted with her. A guy she'd met at Trinity a couple of months ago? She was moving to Africa with him? She might be pregnant? She was throwing her life away. She'd tuned it all out. But now their words were riding in her brain to the rhythm of the rain and the rails.

Ashok would meet her off the train. He would of course. Though he hadn't answered his phone in 24 hours. But he was like that sometimes, he'd get involved and forget. She wished she wasn't so much head over heels in love with him. It sure was another storm. This intense storm of emotion and passion and god knows what else.

She looked out the darkening window and saw her reflection in the window.

The rain made her face look full of tears.

Words for Wednesday

The month of January 2019 is hosted by Lissa and you can visit her and see what others have done with the prompts.

This week the prompts are two photographs rather than words.

The pain sliced through her like a knife still. She'd left her small flat after the cowardly text and her responses, what time was that exactly? She hauled her phone out of her pocket and checked, 8.45pm, the night before. She'd been waiting since 6.30 for him to show up. It was a year since they'd first met on Tinder. Their anniversary. She'd cooked Italian knowing how much he loved it. And bought him a little gift too. The candles were sputtering and dying in their holders by the time she knew he wasn't coming.

At first she'd been incredulous.He breaks up with her by text? She'd called him and called him, no answer. She'd texted and texted, each one using more expletives, more than she realized she knew, moving way beyond potty mouth. She'd finally thrown on her coat and walked and walked until she reached his door and she banged and banged until one of the neighbours shouted down he was calling the police. Then she walked and walked some more. Her head was swimming, she wasn't thinking straight. Those tracks could be an answer to all her shattered dreams. They'd even talked children, a house, a wedding. He'd met her parents, though admittedly her dad hadn't taken to him. Not that he suspected but she knew her dad. She heard a loud sob and realized it was coming from herself. She stopped and pulled out the phone again and stared at the screen, absorbing the words one at a time. "Hiya, not working out 4 me. Met new. Moving on. Ciao."

She walked to the edge of the platform and considered the rails just as the sun started to come up. It must be dawn. What? Where had the night gone? That punch in the gut was still there but easing, was it easing? She looked up as the birds began to sing. Funny that, once the traffic started up and the trains began to run you'd never hear them at all. But now? In the silence? They were singing as if their hearts and souls could reach the sky and beyond. Look, three of the them on that street lamp over there.

She yanked the phone from her pocket once more.

"Sorry to call so early Dad but I'd like to take the first train down, is that okay?"

Words for Wednesday

This month's Words for Wednesday is hosted by Lissa

Please visit her blog and participate if you get the urge.

1. beginning*
2. new year*
3. wonder*
4. ritual*
5. kiss*
6. faith*

And/or
1. seven*
2. remember*
3. adventure*
4. miles*
5. 88*
6. heart*

She, an old woman now, could still remember the wonder and adventure of it all as if it were yesterday. The start of the family new year began in July. The school year was over and Papa was an atheist along with being a mathematician and believed they should measure years in how long humans had been on planet earth. Two hundred thousand years. So New Year for their family, he and mama and all seven of their children, was 200,000 years plus the 42 he and Mama were alive. All these religions, he would state, have their own calendars based on births of their gods. We need a calendar that makes sense to our family.

In the beginning of the year 200,042 they set off on their first 88 mile trip to the heart of the Algonquins. Papa had bought a small cabin on a knoll overlooking the wonder of lakes and trees. They all set to work, even Derry, the youngest who was only 2 then. Chopping trees and digging foundations, fitting windows and doors, this ritual to continue year after year until by the year 200,060, it was all complete, a sprawling structure with a wraparound screened porch and steps going down to the lake where they swam and boated all summer long and where grandchildren would also eventually come to live permanently away from the New World Order.

It was now the year of 200,142, the centennial. Her youngest granddaughter was sitting beside her and leaned in to kiss her soft cheek.

Oh Granny, she said softly, looking out over the richly planted grounds and lake, great-grand papa had such vision and faith for his family and to keep us safe for ever and ever.

Well, for remaining life on this planet, said her grandmother, sighing inwardly, for she knew it was the eve of destruction and the promised rapture broadcast everywhere was just a myth.

Words for Wednesday on a Thursday.

Being out of town 'n all for a few days, I am a wee bit behind in my life and in blog reading and blog responses too. I also had bad news on Christmas Eve which I will talk about some other time. Meantime I find Words for Wednesday a most welcome distraction, thanks to River at Drifting Through Life. Feel free to join in the imaginative fun.

1. hair*
2. dissolve*
3. concertina*
4. candlesticks*
5. ribbons*
6. causeway*

and/or:

1. wizard*
2. bonfire*
3. unload*
4. beams*
5. discarded*
6. chocolate*

The house stood starkly, grey and grim, all by itself, just before you crossed the causeway. You could catch a glimpse of her as the sun, like a bonfire some nights, dissolved into the sea. She'd light the two candlesticks in the open window and play a mournful tune on the concertina. That one distant summer, us two young lads would go out there on our bikes and sit at the edge of the property on the beach and watch and listen, our pocket picnics unloaded and shared: chips, chocolate, pop. Her long auburn hair was festooned with ribbons of many colours and moved with the music in the amber light.

She'd play for hours. We'd wonder at her story, marvel at the moonbeams that would sometimes bathe her face when darkness fell. She looked like some kind of wizard, not of this world, as if she had discarded another life, like an outgrown dress, a long time ago. As we rode back home along the causeway, with the tide lapping against it, the haunting tune hitched a ride with us for a while, finally falling off into the waves.

I ran into Robert, my one-summer friend, a couple of years ago at a convention. I hadn't seem him in thirty years. After the pleasantries, I asked him about her, about our many nights on the beach, watching, wondering, making up stories about her until we had to leave, reluctantly, as parental curfews loomed.

He looked at me astonished. "You must be mixing me up with someone else," he said, "Or you've had one too many of those Scotches."

Words for Wednesday

Thanks to River who is hosting Words for Wednesday for the month of December. Please visit her blog and see what others have done with the words. And maybe try it yourself.

1. miasma*
2. powerhouse*
3. shiver*
4. foolish*
5. plumber*
6. twenties*

and/or:

1. foyer*
2. palms*
3. intricately*
4. monastic*
5. courtyard*
6. sprawled*

The fountain in the hotel courtyard had never been installed properly. The water created a misty miasma which seeped into the foyer. Of course the potted palms thrived in this but the guests had to intricately weave their way through the sprawling damp, shivering and complaining that they had not wanted or needed a monastic stay such as this.

It was foolish, the staff thought, to bring in this young plumber who looked to be barely in his twenties, the latest in a long line of much older plumbers who had tried to fix the problem. He proceeded to drain the fountain and then took it apart as they all stood around him, shaking their heads.

“Look,” he said to the manager holding up the large configuration of a motor. “This is the powerhouse of the fountain, it needs to be programmed properly. I would assume you would like a gentle waterfall with no mist?”

Ten minutes later, the fountain was running again exactly as he had predicted and the courtyard and lobby were beginning to dry off, putting lie to the belief that the young ones don’t know what they’re doing these days.

Staff and guests broke out into spontaneous applause for the young man as he packed up his gear and grinned his goodbye.

Words for Wednesday

River is hosting December's Words for Wednesday. Please visit her blog to see what others have done with the words.

This week's words are:

1. controlled*
2. strolled*
3. belongings*
4. shook*
5. leather*
6. reminded*

and/or:

1. pedal*
2. black*
3. digs*
4. sheepdog*
5. sample*
6. routine*

She had to mentally pedal back and control the rage that shook her suddenly. She reminded him that Alfie, her Irish wolfhound, had strolled in with her when she originally signed the lease for the digs a month ago. Pets allowed. He hadn’t mentioned Alfie not being allowed.

Now she was here, all her belongings out in the street with the mover, Alfie panting beside her after the two flights of stairs.

Buzz, the landlord, stood there in the hallway in his black leather jacket, booted legs spread, arms folded, forehead furrowed.

Pets mean cats, small dogs, fish, birds, not these huge aggressive noisy beasts, he said scathingly.

I can give you a sample of how good Alfie is, she pleaded, look! And she went through all 50 of her routine commands which Alfie instantly obeyed.

You had me on the bark and quiet orders, said Buzz, visibly softening, arms unfolding, now let me give you a hand with your stuff.

If you are so inclined, have a bash at this yourselves, it's a lot of fun!

Words for Wednesday

Words for Wednesday are a weekly feature, this week hosted by: Drifting Through Life.


This week's words are:

1. noose*
2. moose*
3. soon*
4. omen*
5. shoe*
6. onion*

and/or:

1. hourglass*
2. fireplace*
3. fragment*
4. paradise*
5. discussing*
6. wondering*

The moose grew and grew. He outgrew the leash so she had to fashion a type of noose for his daily walks. She kept her hourglass figure in shape that way. She enjoyed discussing the care and feeding of her moose with random strangers in the park who must have been wondering as they fled away. Onions, she shouted after them, and good leather shoes for his hooves!

There was paradise ahead. For soon he would be carved into scrumptious fragments and roasted on her fireplace spit just in time for the holidays.

Words for Wednesday

I like this weekly event - courtesy of Elephant's Child. I'm managing to use all the words so far, so yay me :)

1. opera*
2. recommend*
3. champagne*
4. excitement*
5. sunshine*
6. jam*

And/or
1. dimension*
2. raid*
3. weed*
4. admiration*
5. corner*
6. employ*
Billy was taking her out to the opera. She was dizzy with excitement at the idea. Her admiration for him hadn’t abated since he was a senior to her junior in high school. If cornered she’d have said he was certainly a champagne to her beer – and sometimes weed – tastes. She hadn’t seen him in ten years and they’d recently hooked up on Facebook.

She was expecting a fresh and sophisticated dimension to her life. She raided her sister’s closet for the perfect dress, a yellow as bright as sunshine and the highest heels. He picked her up at her door dressed in jeans and a t-shirt that read “The Jam” showing psychedelic strawberries beating huge drums.

Oh, he said, I wouldn’t recommend what you’re wearing, you’re a bit over-dressed! I’m employed at The Opera, a heavy metal club, that’s where we’re going.

I’m the bouncer.

Words for Wednesday on Tuesday

Words for Wednesday coming from Elephant's Child. I'm finding it a lot of fun.

Here are the words:

1. transparent*
2. solve*
3. theory*
4. loot*
5. take*
6. wing*

And/or
1. demonstrate*
2. graduate*
3. justify*
4. strain*
5. stain*
6. blackmail *

Here's my wee story using all the words:

He thought the blackmail was justified. She had been so transparent in her cheating at graduate school. He had solved the problematic wing theory only to discover she had looted his idea and then demonstrated, complete with viral strains and glass stains, his solution. He was going to enjoy taking her down. Publicly. He had the proof.

Words for Wednesday

Courtesy of Elephant's Child, I thought I'd post the words for Wednesday:

1. peel
2. justify
3. wall
4. employee
5. temperature
6. roll

And/or
1. volume
2. revenge
3. fraud
4. explain
5. weak
6. vague

And then tell you the wee story I created using all the words:

She justified the skin peels even facing the wall of disapproval from her fellow employees who could barely contain their eye-rolls.

When she walked back into the office after her treatments the temperature became colder, the volume of discourse weakened as they all stared.

She didn’t think it necessary to explain how vaguely youthful she felt afterwards even though she knew the treatments were all a fraud.

But one of these days, she would exact her revenge. Just wait and see.

Words for Wednesday on Thursday

Thanks to Elephant's Child for these weekly prompts that open up my imagination so well. I am pleased to say I was able to use all 12 words suggested.


Dear Harold
I am enclosing the final divorce agreement.
Your objections are serving no purpose.
I assure you once again I do not, and never will, care for this patch of land you’re jamming with diggers and trucks along with the neglect and gravity taking care of the outbuildings. Our joint holdings have to be sold. Potential purchasers are bent out of shape at the non-organic state of our yard.
Shame on you.
You are a textbook case of a mangled psychopath.
Your soon to be joyful ex-wife,
Letitia.

Cigar

This story is a prompt from Words for Wednesday.

My father would have been 99 today. He should have been alive to see it. He took up cigar smoking rather late in life and enjoyed them far too much. He inhaled them. Yes, seriously. The lungs of an ox. He died 15 years ago from heart disease. I'd say caused by the smoking. But there's some that might dispute that. The man would walk a couple of miles a day and go for the long haul on the weekends. Healthy and hearty of appetite. A good grubber as we say in the parlance of my people.

He would find it hard to keep a straight face as two of his children (myself and my brother) would run marathons late in our lives. He thought it ridiculous. Me already a grandmother running my arse off around the city of Toronto. Why wouldn't we walk? How foolish was this?

He became belligerent about his latter day smoking. He would insist that fumes off the tailpipes of buses caused more lung cancer than his puffing away on his Maria Bendettis.

I wouldn’t let him smoke in my car when we travelled throughout the US and much to his chagrin I would descend to the role of persnickety parent with him:

“No one has smoked in my car, Da, so finish it before you get in.”

“What in God's name would one cigar do to a fumey old car? Are you mad?”

“No, but I will be very soon, get out of the car and finish that thing on the side of the road, or put it out.”

Saucy as a child, he would roll his eyes at me and there would be great heaving sighs and mutterings thrown my way as he angrily did what I asked, leaving behind him a heavy sullying of the interior air. No one likes being stranded on the side of the road in the middle of Pennsylvania. And he was against hitching as you'd never know what kind of axe murderer (or worse, he'd say, and I'd think, what's worse?) would pick you up and hack you into grains of sand. I would feel as if I'd caught one of my own teenagers smoking weed as I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel waiting for my oul fellah to do what I told him.

I find I'm getting to that age myself. Where my foolishnesses are ripe for daughterly admonitions (you're not driving all the way across the country BY YOURSELF? You're not eating SUGAR? Did you go out for your DAILY WALK?). I remember the dear old mother of a friend, post heart attack, ordering banquet burgers loaded with bacon and horrible greasy cheese and glaring at us in defiance as we sucked up our belaboured criticisms and let her at it.

It's a teetery old line we walk, much like funambulists, us seniors. Stranded halfway between rebellion and toeing the line.

Now I get it.

This true story has been slightly modified from my original post in 2011

Words for Wednesday

Photo from: http://birdingforpleasure.blogspot.com
Writing prompt from: https://myjustsostory.blogspot.com/2018/10/words-for-wednesday_17.

The Bench

He'd wanted desperately to put his hands over his ears and yell and shout. To stop the torrent of words pouring out of her mouth, overflowing on to every tissue in his body. But he didn't. He was too conscious of how childish this would look, how demeaning and pathetic.

Instead, he left her standing in the kitchen in mid-flow. His wife of fifty one years now.

He tried to sort out the words she'd used, to put them in some kind of order and perspective.

She used the word narcissist, she called him a narcissist. He'd have to look that up, it sounded like he was a flower of some kind. No ponce he. No sirree.

Then she yelled "hopeless sociopath". Him. A retired detective. As if.

But the clincher was when she said it was time for them to go their separate ways. It was time for some happiness for herself after all those years of fearful living with a monster. Meaning him. Again, as if. He knew monsters, he'd put them behind bars.

She wanting to sell the house and share the proceeds. Give her freedom. Freedom from what?

When he was the best husband and father a woman could even dream of.

Now he'd go home, his home, and talk some sense into her.