The chains rattled as he moved. He stood, head bowed, muscles tight and quivering with the effort not to resist. He listened to the murmurs around him. His lowered eyes glittered. His lips curled back from his teeth in a silent snarl as his large, powerful hands clenched in fists.
Arriving home after a social but exhausting tennis match, I threw my bags down and raced for the refrigerator. Three glasses of cold water later, I could finally take note of my surroundings. The house appeared totally empty.
Helen, my wife, had taken our 18-year-old daughter Lisa away for a mother-daughter 'bonding' weekend. This gave me the perfect opportunity to catch up with some old buddies around town over the next two days.