It’s not that he was bitter. Not like her.
Not that she had good reason to be. She had the affair. She moved out. She married his best friend.
But, of course, word got around. He knew the things she was saying about him. The things she was saying to their children. The things she was saying to their friends. The things she was saying to anyone who would listen.
But gossip is a two-way street, he realized, and if he was hearing about her then it stood to reason she was hearing about him. He didn’t know what she was hearing, but he hoped it was that he had moved on and was doing well.
And so he decided to set the record straight. Anyone who came to his door would know he wasn’t clinging to the past.
“Come in, come in,” he would greet them.
And as they stepped forward to wipe their feet, they would look down and notice the new welcome mat.
The worn-out sisal announcing that this was the home of “The Johnsons” was gone. In its place was a handsome new expanse of coir bristle that proclaimed, “The Johnson.”
Sometimes it’s the small things.