Carol checked the time. It was an hour later since Thomas had gone and her eyes were swollen, her cheeks were flustered and red, and his shirt was wet. She got up and went down into the kitchen and drank a glass of water. The telephone rang. She ran to it and answered. The dial tone mocked her. She wondered if it was Thomas's workplace. They had phoned earlier asking if he had come home yet. She had told them no' at the time. They told her how a lady at work got injured and he went to drop her home, but he should have been back a long time ago. She was as surprised as the person on the other end of the line. She had hung up and called Thomas, only to receive a dial tone. She called him about three times after that. Carol had then turned as mad as a mother hen. She had waited home with the phone next to her on the couch. She had heard the Volvo come into the yard, the doorknob turn, his briefcase drop, his keys hit the glass table.... She had seen the surprised, or was it guilty-as-charged, face when he saw her. His shirt was out of his pants, and that was what got to her. She had screamed in his face "Thomas, you lying, conniving....!" Carol grabbed a tissue as a tear threatened to escape from the brim of her eyelids. She checked the time again. It was 11 pm. Time had flown. She yawned, suddenly realizing how tired she was. Carol climbed the stairs to her room and entered, only to whimper as a piece of glass stuck to the sole of her right foot and induced bleeding there. It was glass from the perfume bottle. She pulled it out and wiped the cut with a mentholated tissue. Throwing herself on the bed, Carol sang herself to sleep in the silence of the night. She did not even get up when Thomas' hand stroked her beautiful long hair and kissed her on her cheek. She didn't even get up when he headed out again into the night.