Many thanks as always to Rochelle for Friday Fictioneers.
The Bliss of Ignorance
The day Frank repaired the garage roof over his beloved Ford F-150 before the leaking roof over our heads, I understood.
When he said, “We’d be better off if you gave me your work check to cash.” I knew.
After he came home late from work, whiskey on his breath, ugly words on his lips, his knuckles nearing, I nodded.
The next day, he may have come home to an empty house. He may have bellowed, thrown a bourbon bottle against the wall, wailed at the dog who wasn’t there, the wife who didn’t care.
These things I wouldn’t know.