The Line

The Line

“You have crossed a line,” she said.

“Come on,” he answered, smiling at the joke, “you’re funny.”

She just glared at him, not smiling.

“You’re not kidding? Really? This is a line? This?”

She just looked at him.

“Don’t you think you’re over-reacting? Come on, everybody does it.”

“Everybody does not do it.”

He looked at her, “OK, answer this question, do we share our apartment? Do we share our life? How about those socks you’re wearing, aren’t they mine?”

She didn’t flinch, but her eyebrows raised and she said, “Really, you’re going there? Socks?”

“You know what I mean, we share, we’re married, we share everything… I thought…”

“You thought wrong.”

“I know we haven’t been married long, but I don’t remember you ever getting upset about this before, it must have happened...”

“No, it didn’t. Maybe this does seem strange to you, but know this, it’s real. Maybe you were being polite all this time, I don’t know. But if you had done it before, I would know because this is definitely a line for me. Please do not do it again.”

“Fine! I’m sorry, I won’t do it again.” he said, a bit miffed, but determined to make his new bride happy. He reached over and put the french-fry he’d swiped back on her plate.