It's been a week of painful tax preparation, and my father and I are finally winding down. (God bless the state of Nevada, which has no state income tax. Go to hell, North Carolina.) Some dialogue:
"Dad, you don't need to send the IRS all this extra paperwork."
"Let's just say we want to avoid any Imperial entanglements."
It's rare, but sometimes my Dad is very cool.
55 Fiction Friday filed an extension to Saturday.
She looked longingly at their bed’s empty side. Another
late night for him, working in the trenches and serving
society. She’d cover him with kisses when he made it
home, if he made it home.
She was warned about the lonely April nights, the
endless worrying... but nothing prepares you for being
an accountant’s wife.