The Little Things
By Richard Bon
Lots of times the little things bothered him.
She’d leave a room for the night without shutting the lights. She always left retractable pens around the house without retracting the pen. She’d call him in the middle of the day for no reason when she knew he was too busy to talk. Well, the truth was he loved receiving those calls from her; he only acted as if they annoyed him.
Of course he did his share of little things that got on her nerves too: rarely hanging his coat in the coat closet, stacking books beside their bed instead of on shelves, leaving his morning dishes dirty in the sink. He knew of these complaints she had, but didn't change.
Work and parenting were enough to fill their days and they never had the time or energy or money for anything else.
“Join a gym,” their friends advised.
“Take a vacation.”
But they kept going as they always had. There was no shortage of love but also no shortage of bitching.
After he was diagnosed with lung cancer and realized all those little things didn’t matter so much, he still yelled at her for leaving the hair dryer plugged in and hanging from the wall outlet to the floor, but he did it more out of habit than true annoyance.
Richard Bon lives in Philadelphia with his wife and daughter. He posts a new micro story (flash fiction) of his own or by a guest author every other Monday at LiminalFiction.com.