She had to be the perfect little homemaker. By the time I got to the hospital, Gil was handcuffed to a bed rail. Tight enough that I could feel him hard and thick against the front of his body. I stared at him for a second, mouth open, then I went back to staring at traffic.
Then me, too. I was not happy, so I told the truth. The lower half of his face was smeared bright crimson with lipstick. I had enough problems of my own without borrowing his.
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