The conference was great, the high point of my career. It’s too bad I had to fly back right away to teach the next morning.

Halfway back, I feel it, a knot, growing tenser with each update to the in-flight status screen, and I know. He’s still there. I just hope he’s asleep when I get in.

The house is dark, a relief. I stop to take my presenter’s gift out of my bag. It’s a replica of the Minoan dagger I’ve labored over all these years. I start to place it on the mantle but head upstairs instead.

Softly, I sit on the edge of the bed. I reach out and gently caress his cheek with the flat of the blade. One eye opens and immediately goes wide.

“Do you even know what I’ve spent all this time researching? Why I spent the last few days presenting while you were supposed to be getting out of my house?”

The bewildered look in your eye confirms my suspicion. The slight, but very noticeable, increased pressure of the blade is enough to communicate my anger.

“I proved that the Minoans performed human sacrifice.”