The Table In the Kitchen

She cooks what is left of the oatmeal. He carelessly fills an ashtray- the last of his cigarettes. Ashes stain the bleached, well worn cloth covering their wedding gift, the only survivor of a 40 year union. Stirring her fears with a wooden spoon; how long before his next S.S.I. check. How long before his callousness, his cruelty, his rage. How long before his depravity for drink and smokes conquers his humanity. He feels the deep gauge on the table’s top just under the cloth. He put it there years ago.