45. 42-Year-Old Man With No Discernable Politics

Hillary was in our guest bedroom and was putting on one of my wife's cashmere sweaters, a pink one. I protested because she was putting it on over a black bra and it showed through the fabric glaringly. When I brought this up, she seemed genuinely worried about me, and asked me to sit down, like I was a visitor.

The next scene was at the breakfast table. She was eating french toast in prodigiously large bites and I was worried about the syrup soiling the front of the sweater and drawing more attention to the show-through. She asked me if I would join her for breakfast and handed me a fork. I began eating off her plate.