Another Statistic

Bob quickly flipped through the correspondence he pulled from the mailbox.  He stopped long enough to tear open and scan the one from his attorney.  Amid the spring breeze blowing through the wisteria and the robins courting each other, Bob read the letter with dull acceptance that he needed to make an appointment to go over 25 years’ worth of assets and debts in his pending divorce action.

Bob was afraid it would be a long drawn-out ordeal where he would be the constant object of her rage. The tears welled in Bob’s eyes as he recalled her pretty years, thick red hair, sky blue eyes, and the flirty personality.  Something went wrong and he could not pinpoint when it was that made her choose the bottle over him each and every time.

Bob stopped his march to his home.  Right there in the middle of his driveway, he punched in his attorney’s number in the cellphone.  He did not care if his neighbors saw his sadness as the memories came flooding back -- first the good years, then the constant fighting, then the blank stares at a therapist who had no idea how to bridge a chasm too wide.  His heart ached that she did not trust him to protect her from her predators, but rather sought release in a bottle.  He wanted to blame her craving for the break-up, yet, in the most honest part of his being, he loathed that when the end was in sight, he chose to let her drink while he built a separate life for himself.

Bob sighed as he became another statistic.  He gruffly wiped away a single tear when he heard “Good afternoon, Law Office, how may I direct your call?” 

[w.c. 290]
Contest:  Daily Flash 3/15/2018.  This is a good contest for those of you who don't follow rules.  The winning entry was from a friend of the judge and did not use all the prompts.  It was a good story, it just should have been DQ'd.  Why do I enter a contest that is fake?  Good question, it's probably because I need to write something each week and this one fit the parameters of the story I wanted to write.  And yes, I did notify the judge of the error, and the answer was "it must have been edited after because the version I read had it in there."  Not true.  There were no edits after it was posted. Just did not want to admit she was snookered.
Prompt:  letter, afraid, stop