He’d found the dinner set in a soggy cardboard box sticking out of a skip. A couple of plates chipped, the pink rose design faded, but otherwise, fine.
Raising the box onto his shoulder, he walked home, thinking how pleased Ellie would be with his find. It was his first ever house gift.
As the years passed, they’d laugh at how they still used the old set, even though, by then, they’d other, more stylish dishes. Thinking of him coming through the door, a soggy box full of crockery on his shoulder and a grin on his young face, always made Ellie smile.
It wasn’t until their tenth year, in fact, when she’d found a lipstick stain on the corner of one cup, that the first real cracks began to appear.
As the first pot flew through the air, colliding with Brett’s nose, Ellie wasn’t sure whether she was angrier about another woman using her cup, or her husband.
Kate Jones is a freelance writer based in the UK. She has had flash fiction, creative non-fiction, and essays published in many online publications, including Spelk, The Nottingham Review, The Open Pen, Six Hens, The Real Story, and The Feminine Collective. She is a regular essayist for The Short Story and editorial intern for Great Jones Street. Find her on Twitter @katejonespp.