When my wife, Lily Devon, got home, I was taking Paroxetine, medication for depression.Ever since John Clapton reappeared, this suffocating marriage had pushed me from a healthy state into moderate depression.Lily came over, grabbed my pills, and threw them in the trash. "Why do you start taking your meds the second I come home? Stop acting pitiful around me, will you?" she said, tossing a bouquet in front of me. "This is from John.""I asked him what it'd take for him to forgive you, and he was kind enough to say you just need to apologize, and he'll let it go."I looked at the half-wilted flowers on the table. When I smelled them closely, I could sense the foul odor of rotting stems. Three days ago, John had posted this bouquet, captioning it with, [Ah, flowers and a beautiful woman, what a happy afternoon.]The painful memories came rushing back. I picked up a fruit knife to peel an apple, trying to distract myself."I don't want anything from him. It's dirty."Lily frowned
Read more