It has been exactly a year since I came back to Angela V. Sitting here in this wooden rocking chair, I see her working on one of her embroideries. Her ongoing beauty still catches my old squinty eye. From her long black and gray hair to her big twinkling brown eyes, not even all the stars in the great heavens can measure up to Angela's beauty, not even for being in her late forty's. I have been very vigorous since the past year, waking up every day without that excruciating hangover and unpleasant smell of liquor lingering on my body. Years before, I have been agonizing over her absence. I wouldn't have returned if it weren't for those letters I've received from her every week for many years. .
After the day I had returned Angela to her mother, I went out to town's bar to get drunk. Perhaps hoping that by drinking, I would probably kill myself, hoping that the problems would cease. I remembered feeling why I was so upset; I felt betrayed by the women I had fallen in love with after discovering that someone before me had "deflowered- her. I had given her everything, even bought her a new house but all I received in return was betrayal. .
My family members dragged me back home from the town. I wasn't myself anymore and felt as if I needed another woman whom I really deserved. Besides, I was a man, and man must get what he deserved. I decided to leave home again and traveled town to town, looking for a wife to marry. .
I was in my late twenties when I drove into a town that was very quiet; too quiet, it seemed. I needed a drink from the long exhausted drive in the hot sun. Heading into the town, the sun was setting and I noticed everybody was indoors, with all their windows locked and shut. It looked like a ghost town with that dreary feeling when you get walking into a cemetery. The smell of the air was almost like the smell that lingers are a chapel. I pulled up to a bar and heard laughing as if there were a party going on inside.
