I crawled out of bed this morning just long enough to call in sick. Strangely, after the call, the “fog” lifted and I felt strong enough to make a trip to Wal-Mart to pick up a 360 game in celebration of my mini-vacation. I leaned against the door, decked out in my grey sweat pants. I had the hood of my trusty Raiders sweatshirt pulled tightly around my face to hide my dirty hair. Rey—who had showered and shaved before I called in sick—looked at me while adjusting the collar of his dress shirt and said:
“Maybe they’ll think I’m taking you to get an abortion.”
I love you too, honey.