“No way,” she said, not even looking up from her book. “It’s just a bunch of drunks I don’t know, and all their cigarette smoke and noise. I can’t think of a worse way to spend an evening.” She was in their bedroom, a blanket over her legs, knees drawn up into a small but stubborn mountain range. “I’ve got to go,” Kevin said, standing at the foot of the bed. “It’s the Christmas party. I’m expected.” “You’re expected? It’s your office. Go ahead then. It doesn’t mean I’m expected.” “Fine.” It was, he thought, an argument they used to find time to have. But now they just walked away, positions entrenched. They had reached a point, Kevin thought, where arguments were over before they began. It was the flash point that wasn’t – it was, he thought, surrendering, giving up, letting go. Outside, there was wet snow already. The spruce trees were heavy with it, and there was enough down on the road that the occasional cars left tire tracks that lasted only moments before they started to fill in.
What do You think about The Hour Of Bad Decisions?
