This is a quick Sunday photo fiction submission. Thanks to Mike Vore for the prompt.
Dave and Christine had been together for as long as any of us could remember. They got married straight out of high school and moved into a house they bought with a loan from her dad. Over the years, the rest of us would couple and uncouple, but they always stayed rock solid. Weird thing was, it wasn’t like they’d argue any less than the rest of us. He had a drink problem; she was an inveterate shopaholic. Many’s the time they’d have a blazing row at the rugby club, she turned up in a skintight Gucci body stocking paid and he’d made a pass at the president’s wife. Come next morning, they’d be holding hands again. It took us a while to notice that every time they’d have a falling out, another slate would fall off their roof. By the time they’d had their silver wedding anniversary, their house was more or less open to the elements but they were still loved up; over the same timeframe, I’d been through two marriages and several polytunnels of petrol station flowers.
I decided I’d look them up not long ago, expecting to find them, silver haired and bickering but still in love. You can imagine my surprise when I found Dave living alone in an immaculate house.
“What happened?” I asked when I’d overcome my shock.
“Won big on the gee gees,” he replied, “Thought I’d pay for some home improvements. How was I to know she’d go off with the builder?”