I looked outside. Nope, not in her car. I even checked the bathroom door in the hallway. Well, she must have chosen to use the one back in the Master ...edroom. Just to be sure, I went to our bedroom. There was Jessica, stretched out on the bed, face down. She looked up at me and said “I know… your day has been shit, too, but I could really use a massage. My neck is as stiff as board.” This isn’t an unusual request from anyone in our acquaintance, male or female. It isn’t unusual for these. Looking at it from that perspective, I had to admit I had some talent. A guitar leaned against the wall on the other side of my bed. A desk I recognized as being from IKEA had my computer on it. Dark. My dresser had a bunch of crap on it that looked like hell. I couldn’t even identify what the cards, dice, figures, and oddball junk were. I wondered if any of it was valuable. My closet door was closed so I had no idea if I owned any decent clothes. I’d worn a one-legged pair of sweatpants and a. More

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