I was thirty-three years old. I was a CPA and a good one. I had been coasting for the last year. Not really, for I had acquired some skills, worthless...really if I wanted to go back to being honest again. I was married and that was a responsibility that would take some time to resolve. Eventually I would sit down with Amanda and talk this out. The trouble is she has taken the very trust away that every man needs in his wife. Maybe we could make a life together without it, but it would be. He beckoned to her, reaching for her with both of his elegant hands but she always ran from him. When she did, she could feel his despair and with each escape of hers, his sadness seemed to grow. He was clearly wealthy. His cloak was a rich velvet of a hue so deep a red that it was nearly purple. The color of aristocracy. No, the color of royalty. He always wore a ring on the smallest finger of his right hand. It was an expensive silver metal with a shining black stone. She always noticed it. More

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