By Stacey Naughton
A glimpse of what I look like in the mirror. Same person as last night, but with a new title: Adulteress.
My watch vibrates. My husband. I long to hear his voice. Instead, I hear someone else’s.
“Come back to bed. The presentation isn’t until later.”
Right. The mistake I’ve made is still here.
“We need to practice. Today’s a big deal,” I say.
“I’ve a big deal you can practice with,” he says, reaching out and tugging at my nightgown.
I sit back on the bed. “That’s a bad line.”
Red lights flashing. I give in to his touch anyway.
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