No one expects the Spanish Inquisition when they’ve had a harmless, brain-deadening night at the office, posting the bosses three day late quarterly report to corporate, but there she was, standing in the door, bottle on the table, glass in the hand, fire in the eyes. No shower, snack, sleep ritual tonight. The demons were awake and the task at hand was appeasing them. What did he need to sacrifice tonight? Masculinity, pride, intellect, spirituality? She wouldn’t let it go until he found out what was on her mind and wrote her a story that would allow her to sleep.
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