None of the explanations, none of the reassurances, seemed to matter now. "Is that what you really want?" she said, her eyes wide, "To be a woman's sl...ve? To be humiliated, to be tortured?"I turned away from her and began to cry. There was no way to explain it to her. How can you explain wanting such a thing? I began imagining the sordid details of the end of our marriage: the angry silences, the hurried packing of boxes, the lawyers' offices, the stilted conversation about what to do with the. “Sure, Mister Simon. Do give my regards to Misses Wilson,” the teacher replied.As we were heading home, Sandra, who was excited to break the news to Carol suggested that we visit her at the hospital and show her the progress card. I decided to ignore her, but her constant pestering finally made me got the better of me and we decided to visit Carol. The traffic was light and we were at the hospital sooner than anticipated.After parking the vehicle in the area allotted, we made it into the. More

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