by Elizabeth Dawn

Created on: May 01, 2009

I knew the scent immediately. A cheap, knockoff perfume sold at a dollar store with a name like " Vanilla Surprise", or something to that effect. Of course, I recognized it- I have smelled the light floral concoction every day for the last three years. Pushing our carts down the aisle of a local supermarket, we passed without braking stride. Then, ever so slightly, we both paused at a random section of shelves. She was stark white, the color drained from her face. My rosy pink cheeks never altered; I knew this day would come sooner or later. I sized her up, glancing through narrowed eyes. Her blond hair sparkled in the fluorescent lights, and as she reached for a box of detergent, I noticed a full set of gleaming, manicured nails. Bile that I thought would never resurface rose in my throat. My curiosity longed to know if she had to replace a set after every time she made love to my husband. If I thought I had the nerve, I would tell her she should insure her nails- after all, the last three years of their affair has bound to have been costly.

My heart thudding deep in the bowels of my chest, I turned to grab my shopping cart and continue down the aisle. I could feel her stare as I walked away- it felt like hot coals liquifying my scalp. I channeled my inner Stepford wife and purchased my items, heading out to my Lincoln Towncar with my head held high. The young clerk carrying my grocery items followed me to the car, visibly looking at me with interest. I gave him a tip and a smile, but nothing more. I couldn't even bring myself to flirt with an attractive stranger; how can Richard sleep with one for three full years?

The house was quiet as I unlocked the door. Richard, no doubt, was at the golf club's bar, idly waiting for his mistress to be available. I opened a bottle of wine, poured a glass, and started slicing vegetables for dinner. I grazed my fingers over the radio, settling on classical piano station. Humming gently to myself, I felt the tension in body slowly start to fade while the usual numb took over. Pouring another glass of wine, I assembled my meager food on a rose colored plate and sat at the dining room table. Tired from the stress and multiple drinks, I retired to my bedroom.

The air seemed to float all around me. Wisps of cool moisture embedded the air like slivers of cotton candy. Disoriented, I heard the slightest murmur, like an echo bouncing off a cave wall. Focusing, the words and voices became sharper until I could make out a faint shrill

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