Getting home is like a reward.

Every damn day, I stagger through that front door and fall face first on the couch. Alice takes the recliner, saying she prefers to curl up and face the pain in a fetal position. I like to stretch out. It works.

Solomon has tactfully avoided mentioning how we look since the first day he brought us home and made a small misstep, getting verbally eviscerated by Alice.

He's in the kitchen now, ordering food from somewhere. I don't care where. As long as it's edible ...