Theme for Week Three ~ Dialogue

I walk into the brightly lit hallway, I can smell something cooking as I drop my bag near the door and throw myself on the overstuffed couch. "Ahhh... I am finally home, I am so tired,” I say as I kick my shoes off onto the rug.

My boyfriend comes out of the kitchen, a big smile stamped across his face,
"Hi, I feel like I haven't seen you in days."
"I know I missed you too."
He settles in next to me on the couch, "So how was your day?"

This is our little ritual, expelling the frustrations of the day to the others sympathetic ear.

"Oh, it was all right. I feel like I bombed the algebra test you helped me study for, but I made $200 at work tonight.”
“Well, I’m sure you did better than you thought you did on the test.”
“I’m not sure, I’m just glad that it’s over.”
“It must have been busy tonight; did you have to work with your boss?”
“Yeah, it was not fun. He was yelling at everyone tonight and we only had two girls on tonight, so yeah, it was interesting.”
“I don’t know why you let him talk to you like that, you need to say something.”
“I know, but I need the job. I have said things before to him; he apologizes for yelling but still does it the next time. Whatever.”
“Alright, are you hungry?”
“Of course I am, what do you have cooking for me, it smells great.”
“A little Italiano…”
“Yes! You know I have been craving it!”
“Well I am going to go finish it up, I left a glass of wine…”
His voice trails off as he rounds the corner for the kitchen. I spy the large goblet filled with the fragrant liquid on the stand beside me. It’s a familiar friend that uncoils the pressure that’s been building up all day. I stretch out on the couch with my glass in hand and Max, my gray feline friend, who has robbed my boyfriends’ seat from him. I start to drift off but before I can He returns…
“Dinner is served.”
“Great!”

We walk into the dining room where the lights are dimmed; candles illuminate the table where my feast awaits.

“Wow, what’s the occasion?”
“Just you. Actually I have to go to work in a couple of hours, graveyard shift.”
“No!”
“I’m sorry.”
“No. It’s OK. Thank you for the food, it looks beautiful. Baked ziti, Caesar salad, garlic bread, wine. It’s all just great. Thank you.”

I sit down on the hard oak chair; my napkin falls to my lap as I begin to drop spoonfuls of lettuce onto my plate. He passes me my dished out ziti, with all its cheesy goodness I devour my forkful, “Mm mm, delizioso.” This meal was a perfect ending to my unpleasant day.