He slams the door after himself and locks it. We never lock doors these days. And fuck him for doing it now, right when he very well might pass out or something, and drown that stupid, beautiful face in the toilet bowl. I look down at my wedding ring and remind myself again of the vows I made to him that day we married. For richer, for poorer. We did poorer, right at the start. Now, thank God, we’re living richer.
