For the Love of a Woman
'For the Love of a Woman' is pretty close to final draft. I am opening it up for commentary here before doing the final polish rewrite.
. . .
He barged into my office without even knocking, the door bouncing off a bookcase and rebounding hard enough to send him staggering for a second. Startled, I jumped out of my seat and spun to face skinny, balding little Michael Swanson, as angry as I have ever seen a man get.
“You did it to Joseph! Didn’t you?”
I didn’t know what to make of this confrontation. For one thing I had no idea what he meant, or at least not exactly. Swanson had always been willfully blind to the bond between his son and myself, preferring instead to act instead as if I was just a lab assistant to Joseph and not the reverse. Of course Joseph was easily as brilliant as his father believed, far smarter than nature made me, and by rights our roles should have been inverted. But then I am not as nature made me.
. . .