"Hey, Murray! I can't hold it back anymore..." The phone call connected and Hertha was all set to let it out.
Murray sighed impatiently, "I'm busy here. I’ve got no time for your drama."
"It's not... who's making drama? The one overstepping is you, okay? How did you become such a penny-pincher? Don't you know that stingy men are as disgusting as rats?"
"Go bother someone else with your craziness." Murray had no idea what Hertha was talking about.
But Hertha didn't care. "Roseanne, bless her. She cooks your meals, does your laundry, and keeps you company day and night. How can you not spare a dime? Forcing her to work odd jobs for cash, you want to ruin your reputation like that, huh?"
There was silence on the other end for a moment. "Who did you say?"
Hertha repeated it. "Roseanne."
Murray was confused. "Odd jobs... what do you mean?"
Hertha spilled everything she had seen. "You've gone too far this time. Even a loyal dog doesn't deserve this kind of treatment..."
Whatever Hertha said next, Murray didn't catch a word.
Echoing in his ears were, “Roseanne, odd jobs, making money...”
Even though she cashed the fifty million dollar check, she dared not use it.
Murray loosened his tie, his gaze deep, his expression hard to read, imbued with a profound mystery. He was deep in the thought. ‘Hah, she left decisively then. I thought she could do more, but now, without me, she can't even make ends meet.’
"Hey, Murray, what's with the daydreaming? It's your turn." Corley pointed at the dice cup in his hand, reminding him.
"I'm out." Murray grabbed his jacket and car keys, ready to leave.
"I thought it was you who wanted this get-together?" Corley was puzzled.
Murray snorted, "Change of plans. Got something to do."
He figured it was about time for Roseanne to come back, huh?
...
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