In a courtroom, a judge presided, dividing our possessions.

I told Mary to keep the house.

Living in an empty home, scattered with our memories had no appeal to me.

I wanted the pictures, though, throwing darts at the time wasted with embraces that warmed our souls to a shadow of all that we know.

Where it all went, I know of the lipstick stain on my shirt.

I wanted to burn the memories we made because I couldn’t erase my infidelity.

We stood between two different opinions.

My lawyer spoke.

And so did hers.

Mary wanted the pictures, too.

The judge asked her why.

She said she wanted the baby to see them.

I’ll be damned. I had no idea she was pregnant.

I bowed my head as the judge admonished me for cheating.

I lifted my gaze, tears threatening to spill.

I told her how sorry I was.

Mary brushed her finger across her glassy eye and said we should go home and try to work it out.

I told her that I didn’t deserve her.

She agreed.

So did the judge.

But that was fifteen years ago.

Now we’re teaching our daughter how to drive.

Long live forgiveness over worthless opinions.

By Andy Cooper

From: United States

Website: https://drinkcoffeewrite.online/

Twitter: AC0040