Ron was beet-red, and hyperventilating. I was pale and shaky. “A little difference of opinion,” I told the women. “We’re still friends. Right,...Ronnie?” Bending low over his plate, he muttered, “Yeah.”This had happened on a Friday, and we didn’t see much of Ron or Patty over the weekend, although we certainly heard them. Apparently he was attempting to prove to himself that he really was still a man. I’d never heard them fuck so hard, so long or so loudly before, and Monday morning when Patty. I glanced out the window, into the back yard, my gaze shifting to the trees beyond the fence, and the distant mountain range beyond that. It was nice. I could hear the birds busy chirping and singing and whatever making a pleasant racket. Be nice to just sit outside and enjoy the day so I decided to splash a little something else into my juice. Vodka. I took my time finishing my drink and then making another while toasting a slice of bread and slathering it with butter before traipsing back to. More

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