The bedroom door flew open and Margaret burst inside. She attacked the dresser, scattering bottles of makeup and accessories all over the floor.
“What are you doing?” asked Bryce. He’d come into the room just in time to witness the spectacle. He was dripping with water and wearing a towel.
“I lost my keys,” she responded breathlessly.
“And you think destroying the bedroom is the best strategy for finding them?”
“Look, I have a big meeting today, remember? Help me.”
“I didn’t see them in the shower,” said Bryce.
Margaret threw him a dirty look. “Gee, thanks. I suppose you’ll tell me I’ll find them in the last place I look.”
“Well,” said Bryce with a sly grin. “You’re reasoning is sound.”
“That’s so helpful.”
“I try,” said Bryce as he slipped on a shirt.
Margaret threw up her hands in defeat. “I don’t know where they could be.” She turned to Bryce. “You have them, don’t you?”
The accusation made him laugh. “I haven’t seen them, I haven’t touched them and I have no idea where they are. I promise.”
“You better,” said Margaret with a menacing stare.
“Where’d you last see them?” asked Bryce.
“If I knew that they wouldn’t be lost,” she said in a panic.
Bryce sat on the bed. “Breathe. When was the last time you remember seeing them?”
Margaret stood in the middle of the room, sighed and closed her eyes. “I came home yesterday and really had to pee. I threw my coat and purse on the deacon’s bench in the front hall.” She opened her eyes. “That’s it!”
Bryce watched as Margaret ran from the room, cheered and returned triumphant.
“You’re welcome,” said Bryce.
“I guess I’ll keep you around a little longer,” she replied. She looked at her watch. “Oh. Gotta go.”
The two kissed and Margaret rushed off. Bryce waited until he heard the front door close before he finished getting dressed. He sighed. “Behind every great woman is a man merely struggling to justify his existence.”