She called him to pick her up at O’Malley’s again, saying she’d had too much to drink to walk home. He got out of bed, threw on his coat, and drove into the rainy night.
It was late, the street was abandoned. He waited in the car for her to come out. How many more times will I forgive her, he asked himself. How many more chances does she need? When should I give up and just tell her to get out? The questions grieved him, body and soul.
The rain finally gave up. But he knew he never would.
Thank you Terry Freedman for letting me use your inspiring photo. Terry writes Eclecticism: Reflections on literature, writing and life .
Another fabulous story, Sharron - I'm really enjoying your collaboration with Terry. Great work!
Heartbreakingly and beautifully told, Sharron. You've captured his pain and I feel it. xo