NPR's 3-minute fiction - Round Three short story

In 2010, I wrote the following short story pursuant to Round Three of NPR's 3-minute fiction contest. The story is an original work of fiction based on the following photograph:

Alex turned, his purchased coffee in hand and noticed that the fresh faced clerk had put it in a to-go cup.  That had been his intention when he walked into the café, but it wasn’t until now that he realized he had actually followed through with it.  He stepped away from the counter as he lifted the lid to blow on the hot contents.  As he did, Alex noticed a vacant table that he could tell was rickety and unbalanced – a desire to repair it overwhelmed him.  A discarded newspaper was lying on top of the red surface and he thought how life altering his decision to sit at that table and read that newspaper would be, rather than continuing on his path.  Alex hesitated as some coffee spilled out of the cup; he assumed Blaire would be waiting for him at their agreed meeting spot.  They had been fighting a lot lately and had taken some time apart to sort out their individual feelings before agreeing to meet, a symbol they were both committed to moving forward and working on their marriage.  Alex felt it was hopeless and would have more easily leaned toward divorce were it not for the pregnancy.  They were so different, wanted such different things out of their daily existence.  Perhaps their core beliefs were the same, they both believed in marriage and wanted to be parents, but daily life with Blaire was so difficult, exhausting.  He often wondered how they even got this far in their relationship.  He didn’t want Blaire to change for him, but he wanted a peaceful, laid-back existence and life with Blaire was anything but.  She was demanding, often unhappy and picky.  He loved her anyway. She had energy and could be downright funny when she was happy and having a good time.  It just seemed like a lot of work to make her happy and Alex just didn’t think he was the man for the job.  It was no one’s fault – they just weren’t one of “those” couples.  He knew he would go to meet Blaire, he may not be the man to make her happy, but he was a man and could not leave her sitting there waiting for him. It just would not be the symbol it was suppose to be.  As his hand reached for the brass door handle leading out to the bustling sidewalk, he thought again about sitting at that empty table, reading that discarded newspaper, just being himself again, not the puppet on a string he felt himself to be now.