“I want a divorce,” I say.
“Nice one.” Anna laughs and continues filing her fingernails.
“No…I’m serious. I want a divorce.”
“I can’t live without you,” Anna says.
“And I can’t live with you,” I say. “It’s not you; it’s me,” I say.
“What’s gotten into you?”
“I’ve had it up to here,” I say.
“I cheated once,” she says, holding up two fingers.
“This isn’t easy for me,” I say, shoving my hands in my back pockets.
“That’s it, Mr.,” she says. “I’m going to take you to the cleaners. I’ll take everything you have and then some.”
“We signed a prenuptial agreement.”
“I didn’t sign anything!” Anna says.
“Here it is,” I say, showing her the paper she signed when she was drunk.
“You bastard,” she says, chasing me through the house with a butter knife.
We scream until we can’t and then make love until we can’t
And then we tear up the prenuptial agreement.
Three weeks later, she said she wanted a divorce.
My heart was thumping in my chest.
And then, she told me she was kidding.