058. Dinner


"Let's go to dinner."

George looked up from his writing.

His wife was smiling at him from the kitchen. "There's nothing to eat here," she added.

George glanced back at his page, he was right in the middle of a scene he’d been working on for days. Apart from that he really didn't feel like going out to dinner, in all honesty he didn't like restaurants. It seemed like so much trouble, finding a place to go, deciding what to eat...it just made him nervous.

"Georgie?"

"Do you really want to go out that badly? I'm kind of in the middle of this."

"Yes, I do, you can write on that when we get home." An edge of annoyance crept into Lorraine's tone.

George barely heard her, the inspiration was running high, after days of not been able to come up with anything he couldn't stop now.

"Are you listening to me?" Lorraine headed towards him.

"Hmmm," George mumbled.

“George!” Irritated Lorraine reached out and grabbed the pencil from his hand.

"Lorraine, what are you doing?!"

"I'm talking to you," she snapped, "and it would be nice if you'd pay attention."

"I'm writing -"

"You're always writing," Lorraine shook the pencil at him. "You never want to go out anywhere!"

"That's not true," George protested, but he looked slightly guilty.

"Oh that's right, it's not, you always have time to go to the library and look at whatever it is you need for your little stories."

George frowned, that hurt. "This is for a class," he told her curtly.

"I don't care what it's for, I just want to go to dinner."

"Well, maybe you should go by yourself, it doesn't sound like you find my company very interesting." The words were out before he had time to consider them.

Lorraine's cheeks went pale, then went an angry red, tossing the pencil back on the desk she stalked over to the door, grabbing her purse and coat. "Fine, then! Be a hermit! I'll have lots more fun with out you anyway."

Regretting his words, George got to his feet. "Wait - "

But Lorraine was all ready out the door slamming it shut behind her.

"Great work, McFly," George muttered to himself, shaking his head.

He looked back at the desk, his story...which held no interest for him whatsoever now.

He headed for the kitchen, pulling open the refrigerator to see that Lorraine hadn't being kidding, there really was nothing to eat.

In fact all that was in there was a bottle of wine, which hadn't been there that morning.

Which made the fact that it was almost empty all the more confusing, but it must have been there before then and he just hadn’t noticed...Lorraine didn't drink that much.

I really should pay more attention, George told himself.

There was at least something in the freezer.

Tossing it in the oven, he hoped Lorraine would get home at a reasonable hour...and not drunk.


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