5
William yawned. The sleeping pills he’d needed the past few weeks made his head foggy. He stretched, and his toes encroached on the cold side of the bed. He recoiled and groaned. Blanche hadn’t warmed her side of the bed since their fight.
She’d written a letter to him the morning after Esther died, asking him to call her about Esther’s funeral. He’d sent a note instead, leaving the arrangements to her and Esther’s church. He’d vacillated between whether to go to the funeral or not. Which was best for his reputation?
Home used to be his retreat. Blanche would be waiting with her soothing presence, anticipating his every need. No deadlines or demands. Nothing in the house out of order. He liked order. Everything in its place, where it should be. Everything of the highest quality.
Why
