She apologized and continued quickly away before he could catch up to her…if he was even coming after her. Her sobs were making her chest heave and...she held the flaps of her wool coat close to her body, crossways. Her thoughts were bombarding her with questions, statements, what could have led up to this madness. She was pissed, she was hurt and she was betrayed by her own husband. ‘How could he?! How could he?!’ Her brained forced the words at her constantly, ‘Fucking fucker! Fucking. Now she sat eating a small salad at a table, alone, in the corner. They all said she had a horrible scar on her face and was very standoffish because of it, very self conscious about her appearance. They made fun of her when telling me so I walked away from most of the other people there. Her dark brown hair was carefully brushed so it covered the right side of her face. She perpetually kept her head down as much as possible, trying to cover it. It was only the second show I’d been to at this. More

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