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Margaret threw the pencil. She wadded the note and threw it towards the wastebasket. She missed her target and winced because it felt like she pulled her shoulder from its socket. "Damn!" She grabbed her shoulder. "That bastard!"
She reached for the phone. Punched four buttons and hung up. She stood -- hands on her hips, tapping her foot. After getting a drink of water she returned to the phone and punched enough buttons to complete a call.
"Betty, it's Marge. He did it again."
"Oh, no. I thought he'd agreed to quit running around."
"Oh, he did! Lasted two nights!" Margaret was pacing with her cordless phone. "Know what he did last night?"
"What?"
"He gets in at ten, all drunked up again. He proceeds to unload a bunch of crap into the garage. Stuff he probably stole from work. Anyway, I can't even get my car in there now! Of course, his side has room enough for his car. Then he has the gall to come in and try to have sex with me. He knows all the right buttons to push to piss me off. I'm so sick and tired of his drinking and running around. Tonight, I started writing a letter saying I wanted a divorce."
NEXT
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