He drove home. He had three days or in this case, two days, with one for delivery purposes. Then he set out, after work, to do his duty. He went to th... garage and sat down. That was the only place he was able to write the letter of his life, he felt. “What are you doing?” she asked. “Stay out,” he told her. “You can’t come in here for a couple days. Hear me?” and she agreed, but bugged him left and right to “see” it, which she never did. “Honey,” it began. “I love you with all my heart and. Against our will, we have a man living with us. What are we going to do with him?” Sheila scanned the faces of the assembled sisters. “This isn’t a rhetorical question. We’ve got a problem, and he’s sitting right there,” Sheila turned and pointed her finger at me. “What are we going to do about this man?” Sheila asked as the rising chatter of the sisters became a din of noise as the implications of her question became apparent.Great! She had dumped the question of my future into the collective. More

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