"What the hell were you thinking, George?"

George turned his face to the wall.

"They said you had a lot of pills in your system, George. Where did you get stuff like that?"

Silence.

"So, why did you do it?"

George turned slowly to face the man. In a voice barely above a whisper, he replied, "Why do you think, Sy? It doesn't take a genius to figure it out. A guy's wife dies and suddenly he feels like there's nothing left for him. Makes sense, huh?"

"That's crap, George! You fooled around on Louise for years. I wouldn't doubt if you were doing it while she lay in that bed dying. You know what this is all about? Attention! Yeah, 'poor me, I lost my wife, feel sorry for me.'"

"Please leave, Sy."

"No, dammit. You need to snap out of this, George. You and me, we've been friends for over fifty years. The 'woe is me' garbage won't work with me."

"Friends like you, Sy, I don't need right now."

"Is this a sympathy ploy to get more women? Despondent widower looks pretty emotionally fragile, makes women want to take care of him. That it, George?"

George's face flamed red. "You know what, Sy? After everything we went through, after all I did, all the mistakes I made, she forgave me. Yeah, Louise forgave my sorry ass. She knew who I was on the very inside, Sy. She knew I was just a scared little boy. There's no other woman out there that'll love me like that."

"Well, if there is, for her sake I hope she never finds you, George."

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