Revenge

It was a rainy March Friday with more rain forecast for the weekend. Ben and Sam had endured a horrid week in their practices of law and medicine, but it was finally over. They sat in captains’ chairs in Ben’s library-conference room with a fifth of The Macallan 12 open on the table before them and thick insulated short glasses in their hands, each holding three fingers of the bottle’s contents. They had been silent for five minutes. They heard the outside door close behind Ben’s PIC (“Person in Charge”), Joanne, as she left for her weekly dance lesson.