‘This can’t go on, Tom,’ Mary hissed. ‘She has to go.’
‘What do you mean, go?’ He looked up from his cereal.
‘You know what I mean! When we got married, I didn’t sign up for caring for your mother.’
‘There’s no but. I’ve raised our kids and worked for the last fifteen years. I’m not spending my retirement running around after your mother, washing, cleaning and listening to her complain about me.’
‘But where’s she meant to go?’
‘I don’t care! To your brother’s; into a home. All I know is that if she stays, I’m leaving.’
A drabble is a story of exactly 100 words.