“Did you hear me?”
“I heard you.”
“Two after breakfast.”
I clicked the final tablet into the organizer and reached for his hand.
He pulled away.
“We’ll get through this, my love,” I said.
“There’s no getting through it.”
“Then we’ll face it, Robert.”
“Greta… I don’t want you beside me.”
A few pills slipped from my fingers and rolled across the floor.
“I don’t want you beside me.”
“What did you say?”
“I want a divorce, Greta.”
“We found out this morning that you’re dying, and you’re asking for a divorce?”
“I’m not asking.”
“Then look at me.”
Robert kept his eyes on the refrigerator.