He Said My Mother Dying Wasn’t His Problem

me at my desk staring at a spreadsheet I hadn’t read once.

“How’s your mother?”

“Stable.”

He nodded. Then he looked at me for half a second longer than usual. “And your husband?”

That almost made me laugh.

“Unstable would be generous, sir.”

He didn’t ask for details. He’d been married thirty years. He had the face of a man who already knew enough.

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