On Monkey Rocker: Husband

She said nothing. She just watched as Frank dragged the monkey onto the back patio, positioned it facing the overgrown azaleas, and sat on it.

Laura knew for a fact that Frank had never once complained about his discs. husband on monkey rocker

The words hung in the air, sharp and glittering. Frank looked exhausted. Laura looked at him—really looked. His hair was thinning. His shoulders were slumped. And on his face was the expression of a man who had spent thirty years doing everything right, only to realize that “right” felt exactly like drowning. She said nothing