Dr. Peter Thorne

He felt bare without it, even if he still wore the glasses and watch.

He was sitting in the living room watching TV with his feet up when his wife entered the room with a sheepish look on her face.

Is it done yet?

He barked.

They both knew exactly what he was talking about.

Um, sort of.

Thorne frowned.

His heart began to pound as he sat up.

What does that mean, Miranda?

well i know you've become really attached to this shirt and i might have made a little mistake with this one but i can get you a new one she spoke so quickly he almost couldn't make out her words what do you mean you made a mistake she looked away and slowly brought her hands before her to display the shrunken piece of fabric that would certainly not fit on his body anymore i'm really sorry honey but i can run to the store and grab a new one in a flash

Not even the watch could regulate the emotions that swept over him in that moment.

He stared at the shirt that wouldn't even fit a toddler.

He stared at his wife, with her red face and glassy eyes.

She'd never seemed so ugly before.

Was her skin always that blotchy?

Was her hair always that dull?

Rather than seeing her with renewed brilliance, it was like he was finally opening his eyes for the first time.

Had he really married this pathetic woman?

Another thought struck him like a physical blow.

Was he pathetic too?