February 19, 2016

I'm in a lush hotel room with my wife's lover and his billionaire family. The room is filled with large, velvet sofas and wing-back chairs; the velvet is blood red. I'm anxious about my wife spending the night in her lover's room. I get a clear sense from her that she still loves me and I have a chance of preventing the consumation of her relationship with this man. I'm convinced that if my parents were to die, this would distract her away from him. So I try to find a phone--my plan is to call my folks and fake their deaths. But I never reach them.