Still Mr. And Mrs.

by Patricia Olney

  She was probably married.

  He blocked out her image and closed his eyes.

  Lying across the bathroom floor, Jess hugged the cool porcelain of the toilet bowl to her flushed cheek in relief and gratitude. It was so smooth and cool. Her stomach was finally calming down. It ought to, she thought absently. Nothing was in it now.

  She lay there for the longest time, almost dozing, until she finally realized that comforting as the bowl was, it wasn’t comfortable. Pulling the last of her energy together, she sat up. She became aware that she was still in her clothes and her purse was hanging on her arm. She dropped her purse on the floor and stripped off her dress.

  Amazing, she thought. She couldn’t care less that she’d fallen asleep in a Rudolpho, but the dress didn’t show a wrinkle. Finally, she staggered back into the bedroom, tossed the dress purse over a chair, and slowly settled into the bed. As she closed her eyes, she vowed to never, never do one of these practical jokes again.

  The aftermath was a killer.