By Andreas Lit

I’m not an angel. I’m a mother of three, to be precise. Ironically, my smart toothbrush says “Good morning” more often than my family does. My husband doesn’t seem to care. I’m sure that if I were diagnosed with Alzheimer’s, he would just tell me to forget about it. Sometimes I think about leaving him, but then I decide to leave him in peace to enjoy his favorite meal, which I’ve prepared. I can offer him a romantic heaven because I’ve been through many relationship hells. Is he a saint? No, I’ve seen his underwear. But then again, I’m not an angel.

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Andreas Lit lives in Europe and loves writing flash fiction.