Gary had learned that when Stacy was angry, the best thing for him to do was just listen. He had tried, when they first started going out, to give advice and suggest solutions. It’s what he did, as a guy. He wanted to have the answers. He soon learned that this wasn’t the way Stacy thought. She voiced the problems to hear them expressed, and then needed more time to think things through. Once it had all been played out in her mind, she had the solution, which was generally a very good one and typically much better than Gary’s off the cuff fix. He was quiet and waited for another statement from his wife. When none came, he continued.
“It is pretty frustrating having to deal with them both,” he said.
“Frustrating? Is that what you call it?” Stacy had brought her leg up onto the seat so that she now had her left leg curled under her right thigh and she was sitting on her ankle. She had turned to look at Gary, who made sure that he looked straight ahead at the road so as not to look into her fiery eyes. That was what made him crazy; her passion. If a hurricane raged inside her, he could see the lightning flash in her eyes whenever the fury of the storm reached new heights. He saw the universe and everything in it. He could feel her passion consume him, and he loved to be consumed by her.
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