He Forgot His Wife Until She Was Gone

I came home late from balancing the Family's clean books, and the broken lock on our door still hadn't been fixed.

I called Lorenzo Falcone's name through the door for ages before he finally came out, annoyed.

"Don't you have a key? Why don't you just open it yourself?"

I froze. "The door won't open. I told you this morning to send one of the men to fix it."

He blinked, then said, flat and indifferent, "Forgot. I'll definitely have someone see to it tomorrow."

Of course. That same couldn't-care-less attitude.