My Talk with Dad

“We need to talk,” says dad. 

“Okay, I’ve got a few minutes. What’s up?”

“Have a seat while I get some coffee.”

I sit at the dining room table. Dad fills his coffee cup and sits next to me.

He clears his throat. “You know how things have been kind of tense lately with me and your mom?” 

“Yeah. It hasn’t gone unnoticed,” I say. 

“I’ll get straight to the point. I’m divorcing your mom.” 

“No!” I shout, as I jump up from the chair. “You can’t divorce her!. I’m your son!”

“No, you’re not. That’s why I’m divorcing her.”