“I cannot do this anymore.” Dolores meant it. You could see it in her eyes that puked disgust.
In the most deadpan monotone, her partner of too many years, Russell said, “Do it for yourself. Just do it. You can.” The fact is Dolores and Russell had been here thousands of times before.
“Oh. My. God. Was that supposed to “inspire” me?” The way she angrily air quoted should have been the cue for Russell to shut the fuck up, but he did not.
“For fuck’s sake, do I need to put a cheerleader outfit on? This is stupid. You’re stupid.”
Dolores stopped. Her face turned bright red. She wanted to slap Russell across the face, but instead, stabbed him in the chest with a nail file.
Meanwhile, outside, the line for the airplane bathroom doubled.