“But, your wife?” she questioned him.“Don’t mind her, c’mon, we need to go.”As they ran for his car, a china vase flew out from the second...floor and landed with a loud thud, and then a crack as it broke. He tried and failed three times to get his legs through his trousers as they ran, but he couldn’t manage. Once back at the car, however, on unsteady feet, his work slacks were back on and zipped up.Slamming their car doors at the same time, they were both breathing heavily, hearts racing. The. I hear a noise and he enters the room. My jailer. My tormentor. Myhusband.He rummages in his sock drawer, and then he sidles over. I deliberatelyavoid looking at him in the mirror. He pushes hair away from my neckand kisses me there. I lean my head away to give him more to kiss.What can I do? He owns my neck. He owns me."You'd better not leave a mark," I say. It is about as close to acommand as I can give."Can I brush your hair?" He likes to do it. I seldom say no. I handhim the. More

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