The Doctor’s wife was splayed on the couch, a picture album laid across her legs, and he knew what pictures populated that particular album. He also knew what was causing the glazed over look in his wife’s eyes; he’d prescribed the drugs after all.
He walked over to her and planted a kiss on her forehead. She looked up with doe eyes, glassy and large. She mumbled something mushy.
“I know, love. This day is hard on me too.”
His wife’s mouth quivered, and he saw fresh tears threatening in her eyes. He wiped his hand over his face, took a large breath, and gave her his bad news.
“I have to go to work, my love.”
He saw the pleading look plastered on her face and felt his heart sink. He took her hand in his and tried to give her some of his warmth, knowing he was picking the worst time to
