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The room was deathly quiet as Jim Conner faced
his wife across the
kitchen table. She sat in her robe, staring down into her cup of
coffee which she held with both hands.
"Why?" he asked quietly. When she didn't answer right away he hit
the
table with his open palm. "WHY, dammit!" he yelled. "I
don't
deserve to come home to see some guy coming out of our bedroom. Not
after eighteen years of marriage."
"There's nothing I can say that's going to help," she said.
"There's a reason. You can say that much," he said. "Just tell me
the
reason." His voice quivered and he could feel the wet in his eyes.
"God knows, I never intended for this to happen, Jim," she said.
"Wasn't I enough for you?" he asked. "I thought we've always had a
great sex life. Where did you meet him? How old is he? How
long has
it been going on?"
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