There was Biff, sitting in the living room. Most days he got home later than her. “I didn’t go to work today,” said Biff. “I didn’t feel well this morning. This hangover was a bad one, Baby.” “You have used all your sick days,” said Abby. “I know,” said Biff. “That means I won’t get paid for today.” Abby was not glad to hear that. They needed the money. There were bills to pay. Abby went to the kitchen. She heated up some leftovers. She brought Biff a tray of food. He stayed in his easy chair. “Sorry, Abby,” he said. “I’m not hungry.” “What’s the matter?” Abby asked him. “You’re drunk again, aren’t you? How much have you had?” “I don’t know,” said Biff. He held up a big bottle. It was almost empty. “This bottle was full this morning!” he laughed. Something in his laugh was not funny. “You’ve been drinking all day?” Abby shouted. “Looks like it,” said Biff. “Now, shut up! I don’t want to hear about it. I like to drink.
