Steve had come in, alcohol on his breath, swaying back and forth, not able to walk in a straight line.
“Steve, are you…” wewe start, but are cut off with a slap.
“Shut up, bitch.”
wewe sank to the floor in disbelief as he staggered into your bedroom.
And the tears ran down your face, and the hyperventilating began.
So here wewe were, lying on the jikoni floor.