Madeline waited by the coat check with the leftovers while her husband got the car. John walked in. Madeline’s body sank. It had been three years.
“Madeline.” John didn’t miss a beat. He gave his name to the maitre d’ and turned to Madeline. “Who’d you kill to get a table here?”
“No one. I gave my left kidney.”
“I gave my right thumb. It grew back.”
The car came. They smiled and said goodbye. The next three years flashed before her eyes as Madeline ate the pork or beef or whatever the hell it was on the car ride home.
***
Title by: Brandon
Story by: Evan Greenspoon
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