“I’m telling you,” my wife said, “since you’ll find out eventually.” I looked out the window. February in Southcentral Alaska. It would be dark for hours yet—and bitterly cold. “I used your email,” she said, “to contact a vasectomy-reversal surgeon.” I sipped coffee, asked, “Why?” She shrugged. “Thought it’d be weird to use my email.” I looked out the window again. Snow clung to the birch trees. Nothing moved. “I didn’t mean the email,” I said. She replied, “Isn’t it obvious?” I looked into my empty cup. “No.” A silence was birthed then. It grew for years, until we divorced.
Jim Latham's stories have appeared in 101 Words, Spillwords Press, The Drabble, and elsewhere. Find more stories at Jim's Shorts and find Jim on Twitter @JimLatham15 and Instagram @jim_latham_author.