She intertwines one finger in an ebony lock of hair. Her voice continues flatly, plainly. He got drunk a lot more then. He wanted me to get another operation. To untie them.
Kids are expensive.
She rotates her fingers, and the hair twists with it, glistening under the office lights. I am beginning to perspire in this overly air-conditioned room. We had some bad fights. But I finally decided to do it, untie them. I do like kids.