Give me a chance to hold on.

"Why can't I remember the last time you told me you loved me?" he questioned.
The words rolled effortlessly off her tongue, like it was something
she said so very often, "because I don't love you".
"Because people who aren't in love don't say that to each other, why
don't you get that?"
His face washed over with anger, his steel gray eyes transfixing on
her stupid face.
She just sat there, the creamy satin robe clinging to her body,
rustling ever so slightly in the wind that came from the open doors.
Her legs sprawled out on the brown leather couch. Her pose, her
position, her expressionless eyes made it look like nothing in the
world mattered to her. And maybe nothing did.
"What the hell do you call all of this?", his arms flailing helplessly
about the space around him.
Her head rolled back onto the arm of the couch, bouncy tendrils of
blonde hair sprung loose and spilled about her head as she smirked,
"this is life, my life and your life".
"Don't you mean our life, our family?"
He motioned towards the sleeping toddler enveloped by the massive arm
chair. The child she never wanted anything to do with. The child he
hoped would save all of this. He realized that nobody could fix
something that had never worked. That all they had ever done was evade
the inevitable. She is a vile woman and always would be. Nothing could
soften the hardness in her heart.
"I need a cigarette" she said as she stood slowly, walking gracefully
towards the balcony.
"I always thought that smoking was the most convenient habit, always
providing an excuse to avoid more important things".
"And I always thought it was an easy, albeit slow, way to kill off
people you never really liked but always seemed to be around you".
He couldn't even take her seriously. Such ridiculous thoughts always
fell out of her mouth like accidents. But she wouldn't apologize,
wouldn't take it back even if she hadn't meant it.
She was beautiful once. She still is but not in the same way.