Paulson lay in the tub like a gray whale. Or some other fat, aquatic beast.
The door flew open. His wife barged in, shaking her head. She wore her shorts and tee-shirt tight, her blond bangs pasted to her forehead. ‘You have no dignity at all.’
‘You can’t eat dignity.’
‘You can’t eat anything unless I bring it you.’ She snatched his phone off the toilet lid.
‘You want it? Get out of the tub!’
‘I can’t take the heat.’
‘The AC is being replaced. I sold some of your comic books.’
‘Just the ones in plastic.’
About the author
Jim Anderson lives in southeast Michigan, USA, and blogs at jimthewriter.net
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