The Appointment

He stepped into the kitchen. Grabbed the kettle. Filled it. Set it to boil. He yanked the blinds open. Outside, the sun shone. The sky gleamed blue and that. Looked nice. Fuck it. He wouldn’t see much of it.

The day ahead. Same as yesterday. Same as the day before. Work. Meetings. Chatter about shite he hated. Had for ages. Had to keep going, though. Bills. Mortgage. He sighed. Prepared the brew.

John waited for the shout. It came.

—I’ll have tea.

Orla. Upstairs, getting ready. She went out. He stayed in. He made her a mug. Builders, how she liked it. The stairs creaked. She marched into the kitchen.

—Alright?

—Morning.

—Busy day?

Loaded question. She thought he did nothing. He did Remote work. She went to an office. She left at 5pm. He never left. The messages kept coming. 

—Nah, steady. Same ol’. You?

—Yeah, loads on. Phones’ll be hopping.

He stayed quiet. They stood there. Tension hung between them. Heavy. John struggled for words. He had to try. Something. Anything. She wasn’t going to say much. Never did. 

—Shall we talk about it?

—Not now.

—You got the appointment letter?

—Yeah.

—I’ll come with you.

—We’ll see.