You drive home in your Toyota Prius in a state of “stun.” That’s all you can call it. When you shut the door in your home you feel
completely alone, more than you ever have in your life. You know the day you are going to die, but
you don’t know how. Will the building
fall on you? Will you be out walking
with your husband and see the sky turn to flames, not be able to breathe? How will it happen?
You pour a glass of Pinot Grigio, sit down, kick off your Manolo
Blahniks, wiggle your toes and try to think what you are going to say to your husband. Your mind is numb. You cannot keep a thought in your head. There is no reason to think of the
future. Time stops, but then you hear
him come into the drive in his Porsche Carrera.
“Hi honey!” he yells as he comes in the door, “How was the
meeting? What was it all about?”
“Dear,” you begin, “Why don’t we go home and see our families for a
week? I need a break and I’m sure you
could use one too.” He looks at you like
you are having a nervous breakdown. You
think, “That’s it! Maybe it will work.”
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