Come on, Angelo, you can do it. Angelo told himself mentally as he prepared himself to walk inside his room. For the first time, he could not put into words how he felt. He was unaware of whether he felt angry or betrayed, but all in all, the feeling left him feeling both bitter and unlike himself.
He lifted his arm to look at his wristwatch, and surely it was one in the morning; surely it was too late for Emily to still be up, but as he walked closer to unlock the door to his room, Angelo heard footsteps pacing around the entire room. There was no doubt that it was none other than his wife, Emily, pacing the room like some mad woman.
Taking one more breath in and then exhaling, Angelo calmed himself before pressing the door handle and walking into his room. Just then, he paused because looking at him was none other than Emily in her nightdress, arms crossed over her chest, and tapping her foot onto the carpeted floors of their room.
