Below it was a photograph.
Sheldon.
My Sheldon.
Standing beneath purple club lights, kissing a woman with long dark hair.
Below it was a photograph.
His hand was tangled in her hair.
I looked at the picture for several seconds.
“Is that tonight?”
Roslin nodded.
Her husband was one of Sheldon’s groomsmen.
“Maybe there’s some explanation,” I said.
His hand was tangled in her hair.
I hated hearing myself say it.
Then another message arrived.
A video.
Roslin pressed play.
Sheldon stood with a drink in one hand and his other arm around the same woman.
“Marriage is a leash, man,” he announced.
Roslin pressed play.
His friends laughed.
“How am I supposed to give all this up for my boring wife?”
He raised his glass.
Then he kissed the woman again.
This time, he took her hand and walked away with her.
He kissed the woman again.
