Withered

I am stretched thin as a desiccated jellyfish on the wind-scoured stones. Brittle. Sere.

"Have a lovely day" said the male ex partner as the female ex partner left the house. The words are jarring. The first such sentiment in seven years. And they are her words. The words she said, every day, to the sons and partner, words without acknowledgement or return. One single phrase.

"You're very strong. A great survivor" the father said, complacently, over lunch. "Think of the children" he said. "It's not as though he's beating you" he said.

"I think", the daughter said, "given your own record on marriage and what that did to your child you're not in a strong position to give advice." It was cruel. But true. He cried. A tear rolled from the corner of his eye. The daughter looked at it. Watched him wipe it away. One single tear.

Even all the salt water of a spring tide is not enough to reanimate the dry film of the past.