Jar of Regrets


In the quiet, empty house, Michael read the notes with growing dread.

He had never appreciated the jar exercise. Just another silly thing the marriage therapist suggested. Jill had faithfully poured her heart out on the colorful scraps of paper and stuffed the jar full. Michael never understood it and he never read them.

Until now.

The notes in the bottom of the jar were lengthy and hopeful, conveying wishes and needs and things Michael didn’t know. The notes scattered on the table were curt and agitated, obviously more recent.

The last paper he read said it all: DONE. GOODBYE.


PHOTO PROMPT © Priya Bajpal

Written for Friday Fictioneers, thanks to our lovely host Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. See the other 100-word stories here.


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