The second time, the sun was too bright, the gulls were too loud, and the water was, and I’m quoting directly, “unnecessarily wet.”
He’d asked to leave after an hour and forty minutes.
“I don’t hate the beach.”
“You once told me beaches are nature’s way of making people pay to be uncomfortable.”
He took a cube of cheddar out of the cheese drawer and popped it in his mouth and leaned against the counter with a casualness that was trying extremely hard.
“That sounds like something I might have said before I developed a more positive outlook.”
“What’s Her Name?”
My husband believes he can lie convincingly when the stakes are high.
The truth is that even a very small lie makes him look like a fourth-grader hiding a report card in his backpack.
“What’s her name?”
He very nearly choked on the cheese.
