“Woo-oo-oo-oo! You made it,” cried Howard as he opened the door to three of his fellow students.
It was 10 p.m. and he and his wife were throwing a house party. The three students, two women and a man, threw some beers at Howard and went into the living room. Everyone had smiles and the energy was through the roof. Some Reggaeton played loudly as partygoers bumped and grinded vulgarly. There was food and drinks everywhere; the carpets looked like they’d been tie-dyed. It was Isabella’s birthday, planned many weeks in advance. However, in Howard’s mind, it was also a celebration of the death of a tyrant. Dr. Jones was dead. He was finally rid of the source of his stress. Yes, it was his fault. He’d committed a******y and broke the trust of his loving wife. But it was all going to be okay.
