He, a lowly mailroom worker. She was smart, beautiful, talented, the instant favorite of everyone who met her. He was always the plus-one. And now he...e she was in front of him, fists clenched, a sharp look in her eyes. She knew that this underground fighting circuit was all he had, his only form of release both during and after their stressful marriage. And now she had come to take that too. He turned to Jack, ‘What the hell is she doing here? This is ridiculous, man. I’m not doing this.’ . She didn’t tell him the other half. But she knew that was the half he was interested in because of her features—what an old lover had once described as watered-down Asian.The boy placed the box of groceries on the kitchen island. There was a bone-white porcelain teapot on a hot pad. There was a slender cylindrical vase, also bone-white, with fresh asters she’d clipped from the beds along her back deck—deep purple puffs atop pale green stalks. The boy didn’t know where to look. Or, rather, he. More

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