Sunday 

  Timi takes out his spare glasses and balances them carefully on his nose. He winces at the pain from where she managed to hit him last night. He checks his reflection in the mirror in front of him. His wife is still curled up on the floor he left her to cry on since last night. ‘I’m off to church’ 

He heads out immediately without waiting for a response.

He puts on the radio as he drives to church. If she were here she would say it’s too loud. She’s always complaining. Nothing ever seems to please her anymore. He knows it’s best to ignore her by now but last night was too much.

It was their worst fight yet. 

‘She even threatened to sleep with my brother!’ as he remembers why he started hitting her last night

‘How is it just my fault we don’t have kids? I don’t bring up her abortions. It’s just a low sperm count. I am not impotent.’ 

‘I thought this marriage thing was for better or worse’

Timi gets to church, dips his hand into the holy water at the door; genuflects and takes his problems to God.

He drives back home with a clearer head. The gateman opens the gates at the blaring of his horns.

‘She didn’t go to her Mother’s place this time. Thank God.’ he says to himself as he parks behind her car. He walks in and heads straight to the bedroom, ignoring the scattered house because he’s here to make peace.

She’s still curled up on the floor beside the bed.

‘Honey, I’m sorry’  

She doesn’t respond. He goes to lie down beside her and takes her in his arms.

Her skin feels cold and lifeless against his.

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