Where the hell would he even put it? Where I was going to put it was the real question. There was just no way I could tackle such a monstrous canvas i... Marie’s little living room, let alone wrestle it out our front door. The more I thought about it, the more impossible the project seemed.I shivered as we passed the front pew. And what if he doesn’t even like it? I stumbled, catching my toe on the crimson runner. What if he never wanted it in the first place? What if this whole thing is just. Instead, he found the emptiness he was trying to escape.Falling down on the living room floor while removing his shoes, he lay weeping -- drunken tears of self-pity, unable to accept what he had done to cause her to leave. With a giant sob, he allowed the darkness of sleep to blanket him.Threads and remnants of life's reality appeared in his dream and were woven into a mental tapestry, depicting shards of the events that led to her departure: his layoff from the factory at the beginning of. More

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