Chapter 35
Bobbi stared at the near-empty bottle of Pinot Grigio. A bag of Tostitos chips on the nearby table was almost empty. It was ten p.m., and she had been on the couch since she got home at seven thirty. Still in her work clothes, she hadn’t eaten anything substantial. She was disgusted with everything—her job, her life, herself.
If I died today, no one would even care. I’ve been prostituting myself for that hospital, and no one gives a s**t what I do. They’d all be glad to get rid of me. They’d replace me without even feeling bad.
With much effort, she sat upright and filled her wine glass with the remainder of the Pinot. She hurled the empty bottle across the room toward the trash can at the edge of the kitchen. It missed by inches, crashed onto the ceramic tile floor, and shat
