February 13 Friday Fictioneer response to Photo Prompt.
He stood at the porch rail, sipping his morning coffee. Some things you could count on, like the return of Spring. He thought she would return, but it had been a week. She’d never been away that long. Every couple had disagreements. It wasn’t as though he had hit her. He shouldn’t have called her a liar. Instead, he had been mistaken. She wouldn’t answer his calls. “I’m sorry” wasn’t enough. This time he had lost her. He went back into the lonely house. Someone knocked on the door. It was her; ready to give him one more chance.