A Yellow Dress, a Hidden Box

It is Tuesday. Nothing good ever happens on a Tuesday, but I remain ever hopeful that this one will be different. I tread lightly across the landing because I can hear my husband whispering furtively with some deliveryman at the front. He forgot my birthday again last week. I chose not to say anything. Every morning I wake up to see no acknowledgement, no wish, no cake. I didn’t say anything to see how long it would take for him to…