“Lupe called me at work this afternoon,” I told Zack. We had
escaped after dinner to his apartment. Situated above my detached
garage, it afforded us a spot out of earshot of my mother-in-law
Lucille, whose contempt for Zack grew exponentially with each
passing day. Being permanently saddled with the woman was hard
enough on a good day. Today was not a good day.
Zack finished pouring two glasses of chardonnay and handed
one to me. I wandered over to the sofa and curled up in the corner.
He followed, taking a seat next to me. The seconds ticked by. He
shifted his body to face me. I suppose he was waiting for me to say something further, but my brain had stopped sending signals to
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