(Part 1, in case you missed it)
“Honey, I’m home,” he said.
“Oh, Hi,” she said nervously, hoping he hadn’t noticed.
“Where are you?”
“I’m in here.”
“How was your day?” he asked, leaning down to kiss the top of her head.
“Um, busy. Shopping and all of that.”
“Shopping?” he asked as he opened the refrigerator. “Not much to eat here,” he muttered around the stainless steel door.
“Oh, it was other stuff,” she said, hesitatingly.
“Oh, okay,” he said, pulling out a container of leftovers and popping it open. “I’m going outside,” he said as he headed for the door to the recently-expanded garage.
“Um, James?” Her voice sounded tremulous. He turned to look at her. She couldn’t say it. He would have to find out for himself. “Nothing…” she muttered, turning away.
He cocked his head to the side for a second, muttered a, “hmph,” and turned toward the door. What he saw there put ice in his veins. There, next to the door, sitting on a stool, were two hats. It could only mean one thing.
Any thoughts of anger or hatred suspended themselves, not wanting to come, wanting the awful truth to somehow be false, to spare them their work. Somehow, his heart knew what his brain couldn’t grasp. It sunk as the icy veins passed their contents, and his arms and legs somehow lurched for the door. Leftovers spilled from his hand all over the kitchen floor. The door seemed to fling itself open, and his knees buckled, hitting the pavement hard while his throat loosed a souful wail….