“I’m at the airport.”
A deep fake? They’d talked this past week; she hadn’t mentioned a visit. “Who is this?”
“Don’t you recognize your mother’s voice?”
“Then, when did we last speak?”
“Saturday. Marcy left you and I’m here to help.”
“She’s having a midlife crisis. She just needs…”
“It’s not what she needs, it’s what you need. Pick me up, or I can get a Lyft.”
He’d made peace with his wife’s decision. His mother would give him the advice she wished she’d had when his father left. She wouldn’t notice the salt she was rubbing in his wounds.
Monica's Monday Morning Flash 