Debbie had taken George for granted for more than fifteen years now. He wasn't sure what exactly had made him choose this time and place to address the issue, but he decided that now was the time. He looked straight into her eyes and just as she was about to speak, turned away and walked out the door.
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The computer wouldn't start. She banged on the side and tried again. Nothing. She lifted it up and dropped it to the table. Still nothing. She banged her closed fist against the top. It was at this moment she saw the irony of trying to fix the machine with violence.
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It was always the Monday mornings. It never seemed to happen on Tuesday morning, Wednesday morning, or any other morning during the week. But it happened every Monday morning like clockwork. He mentally prepared himself to once again deal with what was about to happen, but this time he also placed a knife in his pocket just in case.
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