The Importance of Being Alive

Bob's hands tapped at his pad, producing a string of lower-case profanities that Rebecca supposed were now his angry equivalent of embittered muttering. She fingered the bruises on her neck, and decided that maybe they shouldn't be watching this. She turned off the set with the remote, and sat with him. Feeling and tasting the oppressive silence as if it were the very air rendered so thick that every moment felt like an eternity spent underwater. Do you want me to leave, or do you think there's any future for us? she didn't know,. but she thought of her husband in better times, that strong man, that smiling man, that occasionally petulant