The 7:00 PM Pill: When “Nice” Isn’t Enough to Stay Married

always pull to the left. I shut off the engine and just sat there, hands still locked around the steering wheel like it was the only thing keeping me from floating off the planet.

Buster breathed in the backseat. Slow. Heavy. Drugged. Alive.

I reached back and touched his ear. It was warm.

That’s when I started crying again—not the dramatic sobbing you continue reading …