“It’s still a marvel to me that we are to be forgiven,” she said, turning. I saw him ride away with that other fellow. I kept them on myself till the sight of your empty chair and the chill loneliness of it all nearly sent me mad. His bravado waxed and he asked her to what would be her first date in nearly twenty years. The door opened, and a slightly overweight pretty blonde, an older, wiser version of Michelle, came into view. That night in his den he smoked many pipes. They sold him the whisky. She watched her friend rise and go towards her affianced husband, a look of mischief in her face. He lit a cigarette and loitered about. “We sent for you several hours ago,” he remarked.
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