Walk Away

Margaret stormed into the living room, her face a mask of fury. She had heard enough whispers and seen enough signs to know that something was terribly wrong. Her husband, James, was seated at his desk, a glass of whiskey in his hand, staring blankly at the stack of reports and documents that littered the surface.

"James!" she snapped, her voice cutting through the silence. "What the hell is going on?"

James looked up, his expression weary and defeated. "Margaret, please, not now."

"Not now?" Margaret echoed, her voice rising. "You've been saying 'not now' for days. Our company is collapsing around us, and you're sitting here, drinking yourself into a stupor. I deserve to know what's happening!"

James rubbed his temples, the weight of his troubles evident in his slumped shoulders. "It's complicated. There are forces working against us, Margaret. I'm doing everything I can to fix it."