It had been a long, grueling morning and he wanted nothing more than to call up his beautiful wife and invite her out for lunch.
He sighed, not sure whether or not it was the best idea.
That's when the picture on his desk made the decision for him.
The picture was sort of like their marriage.
On the surface it was a great picture. Victoria was smiling and she had her hand on his shoulder.
But there was everything wrong with it. Victoria was wearing her fake smile, not her genuine smile. Her hand should have been around his arm… or at least holding his, but instead she had coldly placed it on his shoulder.
The thing was: he loved that picture. It was so them, so her, that he couldn't help, but love it.
A different picture used to adorn his desk. It had been a close-up of her on their wedding day. Her hair had been up, but a few loose curls were framing her face. She was smiling brightly, her genuine smile, the one that reached her eyes.
But he couldn't bear to see that picture anymore. It had embodied everything that the old Victoria was, the one he had destroyed.
Just like he couldn't stand to even ask his wife out for lunch. It was something the old Victoria would have loved to do, she would have smiled broadly at him and listened patiently as he told her how awful that day had been. Then, he would make some cheesy remark about how she had made everything better and he would have really meant it.
But old Victoria was somewhere buried deep inside her, somewhere she never visited, at least not in front of him.
So, now he had the pleasure of being married to the new Victoria. The one he had created.