5
For a long beat or two, we didn’t say anything.
Until I said, “What the hell was that all about? What was he saying to you while I was in the liquor store?”
“More of his bullshit,” she said with a slow shake of her head. “He still wanted an apology.”
“Like you told him, I apologized a dozen times.”
She shook her head and shot me a quick glance.
“Yes, you did,” she said. “But you don’t know what a person of his…let’s call it disposition…are like Fish. They’re fully functional individuals, with jobs, and families. But they also harbor a psychosis.”
“So, he’s a psycho, is what you’re saying.” It was a question.
She shrugged her shoulders like she was trying to say, Yes and no.
“The guy’s got a bad temper,” she said. “I run into the type all the time. They’re the ones I usually pick up for a road rage incident or a bar fight or a domestic dispute that not only gets heated, but the fists and the plates start flying.”
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