A Printer Spills Its Cache
The hum of Nancy’s printer woke Josh. He squinted to read the cable box clock: 1:30. Through the opened bedroom door, an amber glow lit the upstairs hallway. Too lazy to turn, Josh reached behind him and patted his wife’s side of the bed. Empty. She must be working late.
Just then, their bathroom door opened. Nancy emerged, her face covered in white cream.