Wellness Room #2.” That was the email in my inbox this morning. I did not recognize the email address and I was completely ignorant to the status th...t the topic referred to. Even stranger, the Wellness Rooms were a group of rooms near the entrance to our building for expectant mothers to breastfeed newborns. It was very odd to have a meeting there. While these thoughts ran through my head I realized that it was already 9:20. I didn’t even have time to respond to the email asking for. "You were careless before that too," I said. "If you want to play away it's better to not to neglect your husband when you get home. I got suspicious. Don't beat yourself up too much, I should have said something when it was beginning to bother me." No," she said, wiping her eyes again and then breaking down completely for a minute. "No," she said eventually, "you did try, and I got offended and shot you down." Like you said, careless. I may be wrong," I said, "but I think there was some guilt. The letter explained that the law firm had been retained by a small, independent museum to find and return the accompanying diary to the nearest living heir of the doner. According to the note, the museum found the contents of the journal inappropriate for either display or academic study.The letter ended with a brief but firm postscript that the museum in question wanted to avoid any notoriety that might come with the publication of this journal. Furthermore, with their delivery of the package. Sara was beside her, snuggled in close. A couple, you know.Ben looked concerned. “Somebody having second thoughts? We went too far?”“No,” Sara said. “Barb and I talked. We’re married….”“And in a year and a half I will marry Ben,” Bink said. “That’s the plan,” Bink asserted. “And we’ll take care of his slightly warped niece out of a surfeit of kindness.”“Our plan,” I said.“What about all this, though,” questioned Sara.“This? Like in the big pile last night…” Ben started.“And the one we.