Sharon cries, “Please, Mike! I don’t want a divorce!”

I shake my head in disbelief. “You fucked three other guys!”

She reaches for me, but I flinch away. “I’m sorry, babe. I’m so sorry. But money’s been really tight since I lost my job, and the kids were starving! I did what I had to do to make sure they could eat.”

My eyes narrow. An accusing finger jabs the air. “Bullshit. That explains the butcher and the baker, but the candlestick maker?”

Sharon bites her lip, expression somewhere between guilt and reminiscence. 

“Yeah, okay. That one was for me.”