“He was ready to go. He had his shorts on, his wallet in one pocket, his keys in the other. That was as dressed-up, and as dressed, as he ever got. Several clean pairs of shorts sat in a small suitcase by the bed. Being a sasquatch made dressing and packing easier, one of the few advantages it had in a world dominated by little people. Or he thought it made dressing up easier, anyhow. He looked at the bathroom door, which remained resolutely closed. He looked at the clock on the nightstand. What... he saw made him mutter to himself. He looked at the bathroom door again. Still closed. His patience slipped, which was dangerous for a politician and even more so for a husband. “Come on, Louise!” he called—bellowed, if you want to get right down to it. “We need to hit the road.” “I’ll be out in a minute,” she said. It was one of the longer minutes Bill had ever known. Impatient or not, he’d been married too long to say so. What he did say, when she came out in shorts much like his but a brighter blue and a matching top that covered and supported her breasts, was, “Whatever you did, it worked.”MoreLessRead More Read Less
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