How’s the car running, Harriet?
Good god, Martin, are you kidding?
What do you mean?
I sold that old tank right after the funeral. Happy to ditch it. Too expensive to run, too many memories. Not that it matters, considering you’re here damn near every moment.
Did you use part of the insurance money then, dear?
Yes I did. Bought myself a lovely new efficient and comfortable economic car. I love that new car smell.
What kind did you buy, Harriet?
Lovely teal two-door.
Now doesn’t that just figure. If I were talking to a man, he’d have told me the make and model. You come up with the colour. Interesting, don’t you think, dear?
If you were talking to a man like this you’d be gay.
Oh for Pete’s sake, Harriet.
Oh is that his name, Martin. This imaginary husband of yours, who understands the car questions completely?
Oh do shut up, Harriet.
Ah, got you. I love that look of complete frustration you get with me. Means I’m ahead on the scoreboard.
Why must you turn our relationship into a competition of irritation, Harriet??
I didn’t turn it into that, dear. It’s always been that way. Think back.
It has not, woman!
I’ll wager you it has.
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