Taking the Fifth WC: 133

Taking the Fifth
WC: 133

My wife is sitting in the dark, tapping her talons on the kitchen table. I am unsuccessfully sneaking in at 4:00 in the morning.

“Honey, I—”

“You have the right to remain silent.”

“Honey, I can—”

“Anything you say can be used against you, etcetera.”

She is now picking at some dried substance with her fingernail. A rather large knife sits on the table pretty darn close to her hand.

I have a choice to make.

I can spill my guts; life as I know it could be over, figuratively, or literally.

Maybe...perhaps.

Or…or…

I can stay silent, slink off to bed, and see what tomorrow brings. Well, later today anyway. That would give me a little time to come up with a good story.

I slink off to bed.