It was late in the afternoon when my husband John came home from the art studio we owned. I was in the kitchen making dinner and when he came in he said that he had sold a few paintings that day which was excellent news. I informed him that our children were going to be staying with friends that night. This gave us an opportunity for a peaceful evening to ourselves.
John went to the bathroom to splash some water on his face and get out of his binding suit and into his usual sweats. He came back toward the kitchen and went into the den and put a Pearl Jam CD into the stereo. He came into the kitchen and placed his hands on my shoulders and inhaled the aromas coming from the food on the stove. I told him to get two plates, he did. I served dinner and we sat down to eat. When I sat down I noticed him fumbling through a sack he had brought in.