Upon his return she surveyed his purchases, threw some things and stomped off in anger. Oh cmon baby, he pleaded. You know I have the junk!

She thought the evening would never end. He never wanted the evening to end. And in that slight difference lay their future. Or lack of one.

The endless travel made him ill. Not physically but mentally. In Mexico he had some fun saying he’d gone loco but it was a bittersweet joke.