Joe was hunched over his computer, as usual. No one at the office would have suspected he was anything but hard at work examining his patients' records or typing up a report; he looked as intense and serious as always, and besides, Joe never slacked or took time off to surf the Internet. In fact, though, he was composing an e-mail.

To: k.isida@pineapple.com
Subject: help me

Hi Izzy.

I'm sorry I haven't mailed you for so long, but things have been pretty hectic at work. And at home. Mimi's been having an affair and last night I flipped and threw her out. I don't know what to do. She says she still loves me but can I trust her? I don't even know where she is. I keep hoping she's OK. Even though I'm mad at her she's still my wife. And I still love her. Sorry to throw all this at you out of the blue. I just want to talk to someone and you're the most sensible person I know - far more sensible than me.

Hope life at the world's biggest computer company is treating you well. How's the ingrowing toenail?

Joe

He hastily Alt-Tabbed to a complicated spreadsheet as his receptionist came over with a cup of coffee.
"Cup of joe, Joe?" It was their small joke, made every day. The normality of it made Joe relax momentarily.
"You look tense. I think I should prescribe a shoulder rub."
"No thanks, Michiko," Joe smiled wanly.
"Well, don't work too hard." She strolled off to tidy the magazines in the waiting-room. Joe sighed. If only she knew - he hadn't worked all morning. He was supposed to be preparing a lecture for a seminar in Tokyo at the weekend, but he hadn't even started. He knew they were relying on him, but somehow it didn't seem to matter any more...

* * *

Mimi had spent the day browsing the stores, but it didn't cheer her up the way it usually did. She tried on six dresses, but none of them gave her that must-have feeling. In the end she stopped trying, just wandering into a shop, running her hand along a rack of clothes, then drifting out. In a big department store she found a four-pack of sensible, navy-blue woollen socks, just the kind Joe would like. She was always buying him underwear, as he had no time to do it himself but fretted if there were holes or darns in his clothes. She was standing in the queue with her credit card before she remembered that Joe had thrown her out and probably wouldn't take kindly to a peace offering of socks. She draped them over a mannekin's arm and crept away, a gloved arm raised to hide the tears in her eyes.

The urge to buy something for Joe persisted, but what would he like? Flowers? Impractical. A book? Sure, but what? He had no time for novels and she didn't have the skill to pick a textbook he'd need. Besides, all her money came from Joe. She had given up her job when she moved back to Japan to be with him, and lived on the allowance he gave her. So there was nothing she could give him that would truly be a present from her...or was there?

She sat in a coffee bar, resting her aching feet in their fragile pink shoes. Normally after a shopping spree she'd return home, flop exhausted into an armchair and have Joe massage her feet. It occurred to her for the first time that he must really love her to perform that service. And though he sometimes raised his eyebrows at her monthly credit card bill, he never criticised what she chose to spend her money on.

A vision of Joe floated before her. Lately the worry lines on his forehead - which he'd had since childhood - had grown deeper, and been joined by frown wrinkles around his mouth. As they lay in bed she would try to smooth them with her fingers, but he'd push her away impatiently muttering about how he needed his sleep.

That was it! Joe had been distant, had no time for his wife. Time after time he'd cancelled dinner or some other outing at the last moment, pleading work - sometimes when Mimi had already arrived at the venue and was waiting for him. He'd come to bed at two or three in the morning, too exhausted for anything more than an affectionate peck on the cheek for his wife. Often he forgot to come home for meals. That was why she'd been driven to have affairs with men who at least paid attention to her!

Mimi sighed. No, she couldn't get rid of her guilt that easily. Joe had been busy, yes, but no less loving. It was just that Mimi wanted everyone's attention on her, 100% of the time. Giving up a glamorous career had been hard; at first people had pointed and stared when they passed her in the street, but over the years memories faded and only an occasional fan troubled her. She had even been approached for a Where Are They Now? magazine article, but had declined angrily.

Why couldn't Joe lighten up any more? Mimi remembered how serious he'd been when they first met. But adventures in the Digiworld had loosened him up, taught him to be less afraid of ridicule and more confident in himself - even taught him to have fun. The half-formed thought that had come to her in the store returned, and she beamed into her cappuccino.

Joe needed Gomamon. And Mimi would fetch him.