His television was always on with the sound down. Pictures flickered on a small screen throughout the night. The old man sat there with a can of Pepsi and a glass of melting ice watching in the dark. A cat scratched litter in the bathroom.

The antenna was adjusted to pick up stations in Little Rock. Channel 7 Eyewitness News was always on at 10. He liked the weather girl. She had a rather round face and wore tight sweaters like his wife used to when she was young. His now deceased wife was also a brunette, like the weather girl. This pleased him. He spoke to her during the five minute weather portion of the broadcast. And though he never heard her voice, he would answer as red lips moved in silence.

Yes, dear, he said every night. I’ll take the trash out in the morning. No, dear, I did not pay the gas bill yet. Do you need a ride to the grocery? he asked the television. 

The weather girl moved her long arm over a map of Arkansas,  explaining where there were highs and lows, rain storms, and possible flooding. The old man didn’t care about any of that. He just kept his eye on her.

I’m sorry honey, he said every night. Sorry I cheated on you. Sorry I didn’t provide better. The cat would jump in his lap.

He said goodnight to her and the rest of the Channel 7 Eyewitness News team with a wave of his hand. He would blow her a kiss and wipe his eyes.

Till tomorrow, dear. Till tomorrow.