The Patriots still suck

The drive home was all but pleasurable. I woke with a spitting headache. She greeted me with a morning cup.  

“Was I am asshole?”  

“Yes, an asshole is putting it mildly”. 

Apologizing profusely would not excuse my behavior. My worse nightmare, I had become my father in a drunken rage. I watched her dress for the workday. She kissed me on the forehead and was out the door. I was overwhelmed with sadness and grief. That kiss, the beginning of the end.