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Here is the photograph and my story.
“I’m not trying to rescue her.” Claire put her hand on my shoulder – maybe to calm me or maybe to shut me up.
“I saw him kissing her on our front porch!” I shook off her touch. “I was putting our daughter to bed while my husband was kissing one of our party guests.”
Our eyes met. She knew, of course. Marriages go through phases. One is lucky to escape them.