Every day is its own mini-tragedy

“When I’m alone, I wander the house. Ellen handled the finances, so I have no idea whether we’ve paid the bills. Until the collectors call. One asks when I’ll get the car payment in. ‘I’m sorry, my wife’s in a coma…’ The woman cuts me off. ‘Sir, I’ll read the contract to you.’ ‘Did you hear me?’ I say. ‘My wife’s in a coma. If you call again I’ll pour gasoline on the car and set it on fire.'”

Posted August 24, 2001

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