simply shocking
fiction
edward w pritchard
Rose laid the receipts on the kitchen counter and glared at her husband Larry.
Larry aggressively grabbed one of the stacks of receipts and briefly perused the record of his spending for June of last year. Rose had somehow got a record of everything he had bought as he traveled around as a salesman, selling muffler supplies throughout Michigan.
Now how did he explain to her what it was like to be alone on the road, nervous to make the next sales call and why he often stopped for an impulse purchase.
end
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