"How many tears would you shed for me, if I die?" she asked her husband. "Enough to fill a thimble? A teacup?" She waved her arms, vaguely. "The sea?"
"Shirley, how many drinks have you had?"
Tom's eyes didn't leave the computer. Tickets were piling up on his screen. Working from home meant being on call twenty-four seven, apparently. He rubbed at his temples.
"C'mon, just give me an answer!" Shirley flopped onto the bed. She raised her head a little, trying to remember how to wink. "I promise I won't tell."
"I don't have time for this right now, alright?"
He fired off a few responses and crossed his fingers. Please...
A beep. Incoming mail.
We require your assistance down at the office. ASAP.
"Fucking unbelievable." It was the third night in a row. Tom slapped a hand on the desk and stood.
Shirley touched his shoulder.
He shrugged off her hand and into his jacket.
"Don't wait up."