“I don’t believe you.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Your husband just walked past us looking like he stepped out of an abattoir, which isn’t exactly a normal look for an accountant, and you don’t seem fazed by it at all.”
“Well, it’s not the first time.”
“What?”
“Lately, Hughie’s been coming home bloody every night.”
“And you never thought to ask him why? Or what’s going on in his life?”
“No. My mother taught me early on that sometimes the secret to happiness is figuring out which questions you’re better off not knowing the answers to.”
Consider this light fare a palate cleanser from yesterday’s post while I concoct tomorrow’s entry.
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