She gave a sweet smile, thanked him, and laugthed gently, mostly to herself. She felt herself possibly already on the precipice of breakdown. No. Clinging by her fingertips to the edge.
Who else would believe that they had, during the event of one seriously intense panic attack, that they had caused the death of their husband?
'The lying, cheating bastard', a voice inside her head spat.
She shuddered at the unwelcome thought, and feelings of supressed bitterness and anger, and with customary smile served the large fellow on Table 2. He had been looking anxiously around for some unsen visitor for the last twenty minutes, his brow perspiring, wiping his clammy hands on his jeans.
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