We’ve been together for more than forty years. But we both know it was never true love. And we’ve grown farther apart, not closer, as the years went on.
You know why I couldn’t carry on. You complain about my job – long hours, low wages and the rest of it – but you’re happy to spend my hard-earned money. And you were forever inviting your friends and relatives round to stay without telling, let alone asking, me. I don’t have anything against them – really I don’t, I’m not prejudiced, not at all, never have been – but there’s only so many bedrooms and sofas. But you won’t let me tell them it’s time to leave.
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