She lifted the coffee cup as if it was any other morning.  Her heart pounded louder than the sound of the bed hitting the wall last night.  Her eyes twinkled with the knowledge they held inside.

He noticed something different, but didn’t care to comment.  He grabbed his bag and left for the bus.  His bus was five minutes late, but the weather was sunny and nice.  A single hair feel off of his full blondness as he signaled for the bus driver to stop his whale.  With a loud moan, the doors opened and the sun reflected in the black leather of his shoes.

“2 dollars.”  the fat bus driver looking dead into his corpse.  but he was the devil so nothing jarred him unlike the small woman with red shoes behind him.

Over the events of the day, he would loose 57 small strands of hair without even worrying about a single one.

AND THEN, he returned home.  Home as they used to call it.  the one bedroom closet.  She would wash, clean, cook, walk around naked, vacuum silence, and even work four days a week.

Yet, the smell was missing from the air when he opened the closet’s door.  Her jacket was not there.  There was no dinner cooking.  And there certainly was no naked her.