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The drizzle didn’t let up thorough the day. Her clothes were sticking to her, clinging and uncomfortable, when she arrived home. The door was still closing as she began to strip sodden layers off, leaving a trail of wet clothes in her wake. The shower ran nice and hot. Steam filled the bathroom and in crazy rivulets, ran down the glass of the cubicle. Gwen positively revelled as the hot water soothed the trials of the day, washing them, with soap suds, down the drain and away.Her robe hugged her in warm folds of white terry towelling. Her slippers, complete with furry insoles, warmed her feet. At last, she felt relaxed and comfortable and suddenly, very hungry.A quick trawl through the freezer unearthed a micro-waveable TV dinner, perfect for her mood and lack of patience, quick and quite enough to fill the void.While the meal spun and steamed in the micro-wave, Gwen picked up her damp clothes from the hall. Perhaps she should have checked the chain on the door. The damp clothes hit. She fell into the front seat,bumping her head on the roof on the way down. She laythere with her legs sticking out. I picked them up andswung them into the car, then shut the door.Once in the driver’s seat I went through her purse. Ifound the driver’s license and the address. If she hada roommate, I was just a Good Samaritan driving herhome. And if she didn’t…We were at her house in ten minutes. I got out andopened the door for her; she was completely out of it,with a little trickle of blood running from her nose. Iwiped it off with a handkerchief. It was a lot of work,but I finally got her out of the car and standing withher arm over my shoulders. I staggered along with herto the front door of the house. It was an older three-story home that had been divided up into apartments;her name was over the bell for apartment 3. Okay, topfloor, I thought, here we go. I unlocked the door anddragged her in with me.My plan was in the toilet if we saw anyone on the wayup..
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