My Husband Tossed $50 at Me and Demanded, “Prepare a Grand Christmas Feast for My Family—Don’t Let Me Down!”
Something felt from the Christmas season. It wasn’t shimmering lights or sharp winter air – it was a rodent feeling in my intestine every time Greg talked to me. In his voice was smug, condescending to the inclination of his words, thanks to which my skin was dirty. I spent years of cleaning his release …