Forget me not
“I’ve just got to nip out,” the words didn’t register with Geoff Simmonds, his full attention fixed on the football. It was only when the slamming of the front door cut through the excited chants coming after a goal, that he realised.
He struggled out of the old armchair, striding to the front door as quickly as he could. “Ann!” his wife half turned, a hint of hope glimmering across the otherwise tired face, a hope which was dashed by his next words “Get me a six pack wouldya?”
She turned away without a response, and he headed back to the comfortable chair. The first thing he saw when entering the living room this time, was the sealed envelope sitting on the mantelpiece. Slitting it open with one broken fingernail, he saw the words Happy Anniversary and let out a low curse.