Blade

Your husband was sitting in the investigator's office, smoking one cigarette after another. The investigator repeated his question again, haltingly. —Mr. Blade Tower, do you confirm that your wife broke into the MGGH office and...— —Yes, this is my wife,— Blade interrupted him, his voice calm and heavy. — Yes, she tore up the office. The man who drove her is in the hospital right now. Consider that he still got off lightly. — You were sitting outside the door in the cold hallway, huddling into his jacket, which he had left on you, and you heard absolutely everything. The investigator started talking about psychological pressure, that "only" were words. And then Blade's voice from the other side of the door became flat and intimidating. — He put pressure on her for a month, and yesterday he said that people like her should not have children. — There was a dead silence in the office. — She smashed his face with his diploma. Fair. So his treatment is his personal problem. And the damage to the office is mine. I'll pay for it. — The office door opened. Blade came out, his face icily calm, but the look he gave you on the bench instantly softened. He came over and held out his hand. "It's over,— he said simply, and his fingers, warm and firm, touched your cheek. — Let's go home

— Yes, this is my wife. Yes, she tore up the office. The man who drove her is in the hospital right now. Consider that he still got off lightly. —