e fact that this man was mine. A time when I would stare into his dark amber eyes and f

now the rea

, I stil

consuming than it used to be. But it's stil

to have

to have

to have

. I have a beautiful and lonely house. I have a husband who pets

way-and in retur

d on, turning the armpits into dark circles. I look d

ay? You can make me dinner and later,

ly suggesting that we have sex the same day I walked in on him fucking some random woma

he?" I as

annoyed that I haven't gotten ove

ll

l She

ter her grandmoth

ut she means nothing to me. S

g to see her to

ent in Chicago. She's only

e question. Which of course is all the ans

ne. Usually, that would set off a warning bell: r

getting really fucki

lea

onna go?" he scoffs. "You don't have

a motel or

in sadistic amusement. "You don't have a

context. Like the fact that the only reason I don't have a job is be

ways told me. "And I'm g

ally meant: You're my proper

tammer, fighting back angr

up on the fluffy white carpet he bought for me

tells me. "It'll be f

g, he walks o

he bed he was just fuc

onth

ou the

n on his face. I passed by him earlier, on my way into the restaurant,

mall white apron around my tight-fitted b

You're not wearing the right shoes," he

ll and the agency informed me of this shift lit

in your life story. There's a group of VIPs in one o

in my throat. "Oh, uh,

on your blouse," he instructs with a straight, dour

at that means, bu

al job, I hear Casey's laughter in the back of my head,

devil, my phone starts

him. No one

and g

t the maître

're only here because one of my waitresses decided to break some

size. I do my best to keep my v

time, smug as e

into the private room with my hea