I put laxatives in my husband’s coffee before he left to see his mistress, and I watched him swallow it as if he weren’t drinking his own shame.
The baby didn’t cry. That was the first thing that registered through the icy static filling my brain. In the humid afternoon air drifting off the Upper Bay, the infant …
I put laxatives in my husband’s coffee before he left to see his mistress, and I watched him swallow it as if he weren’t drinking his own shame. Read More