The floor

George and Martha stared at each other from across their condo living room. Malevolence and indifference crackled the charged air between them like a toxic mixture of sand, metal, and winter. The renovation had taken too long and cost too much; boiling points had been reached. A thick dust of concrete, plaster, and caulk covered the red sheets covering their 18th century French provincial furniture. Two-by-fours rested against the cracked walls. They could not walk in the kitchen; uninstalled cabinets and disconnected appliances cluttered the room. Their contractor had torn up the ceramic tile floor and waited for them to pay the second half of the elegant cherry hardwood flooring they had chosen. They didn't have the money and wouldn't have the money.

Martha fumed and puffed out an accusation. "You knew we didn't have the money, and now we're $100,000 under water on the mortgage. We can't even finance our way out of this mess! Where the hell is all the cash that's supposed to pay for this?" Like a boxer in one corner, she planned her next attack.

"If you'd listened to me and stayed within the budget, we'd have paid for everything. But no, you have to have the finest antique furniture, the most expensive oriental rugs, specialty woods for cabinets and flooring. All your fault, Martha, all your fault!"

"I thought your job was secure, you could always get another! You never told me you were a failure, you hated your career, you just wanted out, you loser!"

"Yeah, well this loser's walking right out of here and never coming back!"

Good riddance, Martha thought. With him gone, her parents would pay for the rest of the condo renovation. They'd always hated George, and they were right -- he was beneath her. She'd get her beautiful condo, one way or the other, with or without George. No, better without George. She hated him. They hadn't even had good sex in five years. If he walked out on her now, she'd get the condo, get rid of him, and get her parents to pay for the rest of what she wanted.

"Well if you stay, you'd goddamned best get a job and pay for this, because otherwise I'll tell everyone the truth about you and that boy."

George slammed the door as he walked out. Martha smiled.