This morning, we were screaming at each other about paper towels. Screaming! He NEEDED paper towels. The health inspector is COMING. I'd said there were paper towels at home, but there were NO PAPER TOWELS! I was mad that he was mad. I was mad that he wanted me to buy him paper towels. I was mad that he didn't have money to buy his own goddamned paper towels.
I get to work, and everyone is quiet. The boss tells me that my coworker's wife died this Saturday.
We're a really small office, so we all know each other pretty well. It's a casual, wonderful place to work, and so this news is heartbreaking. Mike was riding with his wife on their motorcycles in the mountains this weekend. She's a beautiful woman, and he's never said anything but sweet, sweet things about her. Last week, they celebrated their second wedding anniversary.
He went around a curve, and looked back behind him. She never followed. He backtracked to find her, and couldn't. He finally figured out she'd gone over an edge.
Mike's in a band, and I went to see them perform last year. I met his wife there. He called her up to the stage, and she looked at him as if he were her dream-man-rock-star, and he sang, "From A Jack To A King" to her. It was lovely. She was lovely and so was he.
I clocked out of work and took my man his stupid, stupid paper towels.