“My one true love!” screams Husband, brokenly.
I try to respond, but gag on my tears. Wrenching myself out of the burly policeman’s clichédly vice-like grip, I stumble back into Husband’s waiting arms.
“I can’t live without you!” he whispers.
“Just . . . try your best,” I sob.
*sigh!* The glorious tragedy of it all! I almost regret being granted residency so soon. It was like having two versions of Husband: the real Husband, and an imaginary version tenuously modelled on the Husband template