"Where are you going?"
He ignores my pleas, heading purposefully down the hall, cable line bouncing behind him down the steps. I stagger after, clutching a blanket around my frozen frame, finding that flannel pajamas is no match for such frigid temperatures.
The darkness conceals his exit, but I rush as fast as I can, painfully stubbing thoroughly numb toes.
"Wait!" I weep.
Slam. He's left me.
Sniffling, I shuffle into the unlit kitchen and rummage for a candle. By the dim flame, I morosely pull out the bin from the pantry containing Kit-Kats, and get to work.
Being single, I have had my share of dating disappointments. While current culture would have me emotionally binge after every letdown, I have managed not to.
It was only by Sandy, when the power abandoned me, that I realized what I truly hold dear.
Not light. Not heat. Not hot water.
When basic cable strode out the door, I went to pieces.
After toying with me for nearly two weeks, he has finally come back, quietly clicking on, as though hoping I wouldn't make a big deal of his return.
I decided to accept this belated apology, and we do not speak of his betrayal.
I only sigh with relief and joy, stroking the remote, and settling down to a Law & Order that I have seen at least four times.