The teaspoon was smooth under his fingertip, as he idly ran it around the bowl and up and down the shaft. His eyes were glazed over, not even seeing into the distance that he was staring towards, out of the window.

“Dammit Roger, say something!”

He shook his head, trying to dismiss the fog in his head. As far as he was concerned her words were still hanging over her head, like a speech bubble;

‘It’s over, Roger. I’m leaving you.’

How was this the right time to do this? They were in Clacton, of all places. Why on earth had David decided to get married in Clacton? Why was she doing this to him now? He knew it had been bad for a while, he had thought about leaving her too, but he would never have done it like this; they were sharing a room, a bed for God’s sake!

“What do you want me to say, Darcy? I know it’s been bad, but I still want to make this work. Besides what are you going to do if you go through with this right here, right now? We’re away from home, we are sharing a hotel room that has only one bed. Tomorrow we are supposed to be going to my brother’s wedding; I’m the best man for crying out loud!”

He did not want to, or mean to, but he burst into tears;

“Why, Darcy? Why now?”

Her face did not even flinch. She stood up, shook her head and walked away.

This Ficlet was inspired by Spangle Kitten’s suggestions of a spoon, Clacton and breaking up with a long-term partner as item, place and activity from the Wednesday poll on my Livejournal.