As soon as Eric had ordered the omelette he knew it was a bad idea. The cafe did the best bacon sandwich in town but it was inadvisable to venture too far down the menu. Fried eggs were usually okay but whenever Eric was brave enough to order anything else from the special’s board he was left with a sense of regret and a stone in his stomach for the rest of the day. The corned beef pie he’d ordered last week was like a wet Wednesday in Barry, cold, grey and miserable, leaving a salty taste on his lips. While the fish pie was one of the saddest things he’d ever seen, it almost brought a tear to his eye, how could food appear maudlin? But how far wrong could they go with an omelette? Eric looked at his watch. Julie was late, again. He remembered a time when she was always early, full of the joys of spring. But these days their relationship was as joyless and as tasteless as the food in this grimy cafe. Cathy threw the plate at him, it was quite a skill she was developing. Eric looked at his food. The omelette was like a fart on a plate, listless, grey-y brown, lukewarm and smelling of rotten eggs. He tentatively ate a few mouthfuls , it was as bad as it looked. He’d just about finished eating when his phone buzzed, it was a message from Julie.
It’s over Eric, I’m leaving you.
Eric pushed his chair back and dashed to the loo, Julie wasn’t the only thing leaving him.
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