The Present
He stared aghast at the parcel, hoping his feelings didn’t show. She was standing with her weight on one leg, smiling up at him expectantly, apparently confident that yesterday’s shenanigans could be swept away as the aberration of a moment, a hiccup in an enduring relationship.
How could she? He’d explained clearly enough how he felt. Otherwise why all the tears, the reproaches, which he hoped he’d borne with the right mixture of firmness, compassion and dignity.
Yes of course they’d had many good times together. But he was no longer enjoying being with her. He looked at the neat figure, the nice clothes, the familiar half-smile on her by no means unattractive face. She had plenty to offer, and there’d be others who’d be glad of her. Why would she want to hang on to someone who no longer wanted her?
He’d explained that the past was over. That they must go forward into separate futures. Meanwhile, there was the present. He stared again at the carefully wrapped parcel, not knowing what to say.