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1: A day like all others

James looked toward the other side of the bed at his sleeping wife. Helen was as beautiful asleep as she had been during their first days together. They had met some twenty something years ago in college and had liked, then loved each other with a passion...

He wished he didn't have to wake up early in the morning and could simply keep watching her like that, unchanged. But he had changed too.

At this time of the night, he could almost pretend their couple, their life, wasn't dull. Almost. Yet he couldn't quite forget the worn out look they had now, when they looked at the world or at each other. He was no different than she was on that regard, every reflecting surface reminded him of what was lost, worn out, to routine.

Closing his eyes, he clung to faded memories of brighter days until sleep took him.

On the morrow, sighing himself out of bed, he glanced at the other side of the bed to find it empty. It was usual on a weekday as Helen woke up and left before he did. Mechanically, he got dressed, made himself some tea from the pot his parents gifted them constantly. He really wasn't fond of it. But he had hated the tearful face his mother had made when she'd found the unused bags in the trash.

She had forced him to make a promise and he took those seriously. He'd made her give up the idea of having grandchildren, so he saw these morning teas as some sort of atonement. He owed her that, didn't he?

An hour later, he was parked by the grey building of his company. He liked his work, in a way. He was good at it, was fairly well paid, and it kept him busy for a decent number of hours.

Nevertheless, his first real smile of the day only came a few hours later when he met with Edward. They'd been friends for about an eternity and a half and met regularly for lunch. Today as usual, Edward was talking about his new conquest.

"You should try dating younger women James, really!"

"You are aware I'm still married, right?" He answered, laughing to see that some things definitely didn't change.

"So am I old man, so am I... but whatever we promised, love isn't forever."

"Don't lie to yourself, I know you love Mary still, just like I love Helen. And don't call me old, you're the one that just turned forty last month."

"Of course, I love her, but there's nothing of the spark we shared left. It's a lukewarm kind of love that feeds on habitude and tenderness." Edward paused to add to the dramatic of his speech, then resumed, moving his hands around like the perfect Italian he wasn't "I want passion, I want to be excited, I want to drink cocktails, not tea... I may be the older one by a few months, but you are the one dressing and behaving like an old man."

They both drank their wine silently, smiling with their eyes at this well-rehearsed back and forth: James always tried to encourage Edward to get back inside the boundaries of his marriage while Edward tried to make James jump out of those same boundaries.

"Anyway, tell me about her, I'm sure you can't wait to gloat." James said accurately to his best friend who, indeed, couldn't wait.

On his way back home, after another uneventful afternoon at work, James thought about what he and Helen could have for dinner. Cooking wasn't James' thing, it might have been fun years ago when Helen and he did it, barely wearing an apron above their underwear, but now? Without torturing himself with times long past, he stopped at the local caterer on the way home to grab something that looked healthy enough.

Fifteen minutes later, he was on his couch and the table was set. A book in his hand, he waited for Helen to come back from work. Her commute was longer, and she usually arrived an hour after he did.

The evening went down as the rehearsed script it felt like. They ate, talking about their days at work, watched an episode of some Netflix show, went to bed. They made love just like they did every other day, three week per months, every month. They hugged and Helen fell asleep in his arms.

This night, James' dreams were agitated, haunted by a remake of Edwards extra conjugal adventures where a livelier version of himself got lost in the eyes of a young student looking just like his wife used to.

Hours later, he woke up at the usual time for another day very much like the last except for the sneaky thought creeping in his mind. Maybe he should ask Edward how he met those young girls. A man can always get new friends, regardless of age and sex, right? He dismissed the idea as ludicrous and went on with his day.