Paucity

Scarcity (n.)

Earlier in the evening Mr. and Mrs. Michaels were sitting at opposite ends of a bar with their backs to each other. Mr. Michaels was having drinks with a woman that was not Mrs. Michaels, and Mrs. Michaels was having drinks with a man that was not Mr. Michaels. It just so happened that that night they were doing this in the same place. In an odd coincidence, they both got up to go to the bathroom at the same time and saw each other. Both of them shocked, they turned around and paid their respective bills and left together, each driving their own car back home.
Now Mr. and Mrs. Michaels are sitting on their living room couch staring at the wall above their television. The couch has three square cushions: one closest to each end of the couch and one in the middle. Mr. and Mrs. Michaels each occupy their own square at opposite ends of the couch, leaving the one middle cushion like a barrier of nothingness between them.
Mr. Michaels attempts communication first.
"I'm, uhm, going to go get some chips from the kitchen."
Mrs. Michaels is silent.
"Do you want any?"
Again, she doesn't respond. Mr. Michaels leaves the room and comes back empty-handed and sits down on the couch again and rests his hands on his knees.
"What do we do?"
Mrs. Michaels doesn't say anything.
"Do we talk about it?" he tries to be specific.
"I don't know if there's very much to say."
"Who was he?" he asks.
"Who was she?" she retorts.
They both lean back on the couch and look forward again at the blank television screen.
"How long?" he asks.
"Two years," she says, "and you?"
"Three," he says.
Then there is a long, definitive silence that lasts several minutes. They sigh intermittently, trying not to see each other.
"Weren't you going to go get some chips?" Mrs. Michaels asks in a whisper.
"There weren't any left," Mr. Michaels says, "so I gave up on the idea."