Mark was at the end of his shift. He was supervising the staffers that were working their way through the evening checklist for closing the combined café and bookstore. Baristas and booksellers did what he said, when he said it. Can’t argue with that.

I sat there, the dutiful wife. Waiting.

We had plans, Mark and I, to walk down the street to the new sushi place. Some food, some wine, and then later some dirty stuff. It was Friday night, and I was ready. It had been a long and stressful week.

A new employee — a big, strapping guy with a deep baritone voice — kept staring at me while Mark was talking.

“Louie, is there something you need to tell me? Do you know my wife, perhaps?” Mark asked, frustrated with his staffer’s split attention.

Louie blinked,... Read More