Charlotte was still up when Sam came through the door at 8:30 that night. She let out a sigh of relief before getting up from her pink chair sanctuary and as she walked into the mudroom, watched him close for any signs of staggering.
"Are you okay?" asked looking at her husband's back. Sam was half in and half out of the closet hanging up his coat.
A barely audible, "I'm fine," came out of the clothes.
"Where have you been?"
Still without facing his wife, Sam answered, "Where do you think?"
Immediately the words "A bar" shot into her head. They were front and center flashing like a neon sign right before her eyes. A shutter traveled through her. Should she admit that she thinks he failed? What would that mean? What would it do? Before she could put out any kind of an answer Sam turned around and shoveing his face right into Charlotte's yelled, "Where do you think, I've been?"
She turned her head to avoid the smell of gin, and whispered, "A bar, I thought you were at a bar."
"Glad I didn't let you down."
(16424)
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