World of Tomorrow
“There’s glass all over the floor, sir. You must have landed on some.”
Shoving up his shirtsleeve, Andrew found the thin, shallow slice along the side of his forearm, still beading with blood. Taking the kerchief, he pressed it over the wound and held it tightly. Slumping to the side, he sat, his back braced against the sofa. “Thank you, Mary.”
“Sir, who was that woman?”
Heaving a sigh, he replied, “Technically, she’s my wife. The one I was divorcing tomorrow. God knows what she’ll do now.”
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