When Tomka’s husband left her, she didn’t cry. He left - and thank God! Tomka sacrificed everything for him, but he didn’t appreciate it, he just used it. I found another one for myself. Probably the same kind of drinker, Tomka thought gloatingly, collecting her husband’s things. And resentment pierced her heart like a sharp sliver and tossed and turned there, bled, and did not heal: her husband, home-loving, thrifty, caring, left her. And he didn’t just leave, but to some drunkard. To your drinking buddy.