The third chair. This time there is no affection in the gaze, no love in the voice. This time there is bitterness, like the bad aftertaste of a longed...for treat that turns sour in the mouth. As old scars show white on skin burned by the sun, so bad memories burn bright under her gaze. ‘My husband, my dear EX husband. How nice of you to attend my little performance. How unusual of you to actually be anywhere that I wanted you, to pay me any attention, to linger on my words’ She drinks again,. I started to activate the garage door opener for her but she said "Never mind. I have some junk stored in the garage until I can it hauled away. I'll park out here for the night."She helped me carry my new clothes into the house. When I opened my bedroom door, I almost had a heart attack. My room has always been the typical boy's room with football posters tacked to every wall, clothes strewn all over the place, corners stacked with hockey sticks and football gear and a wooden. More

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