Jeromy slumped down on the worn couch, loosened his tie, and dropped it in
a wad onto the coffee table. He still couldn't believe that Mary was gone. In an
armchair next to him was his mother-in-law, Harriett, who had her feet propped up
on a hassock in front of her, exposing the frayed bottoms of her ancient blue house
slippers.
"There has to be a point to all this," Jeromy muttered.
"A point!" she said, sucking on the end of a generic non-filtered cigarette.
She began to laugh hysterically, then just as suddenly stopped.
"There is no damn point."
"I know," Jeromy whispered, staring blankly into the fireplace, and feeling
glad for the warmth of it on this cool autumn evening.