PHOTO PROMPT© Roger Bultot
Morgan appraised himself in the mirror and smiled. He was well-regarded in his job as administrator at the town’s library, partly due to staff receiving generous gift cards at the holidays. His Wednesday night poker group loved him as he often had bad luck. The pastor at church praised him with special mention each Sunday for his tithing, landscaping, and handyman skills.
“Where’s my breakfast!?,” he roared.
Morgan’s wife, Carla, felt a shudder roll through her slight form. She rubbed the tender, bruised area on the inside of her arm that his fingers loved to squeeze.
Carla knew different.
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