Angela’s Discovery

“Honey, I’m home!” Charlie called into his mostly dark house. He had seen on the way back from the bar that the light upstairs was still on. She was probably writing, reading, or watching hours of mindless television. In any case, she was awake still, which meant he had the possibility of, to spare the reader the technicalities, getting some.

“I hate it when you do that!” Angel called down the stairs. Charlie removed his shoes, leaving them by the door as he made his way into the house.

“Couldn’t you have left a light on for me or something?” He called upstairs. “After all, I am your husband. Don’t you worry?”

“I knew you’d be fine. We’ve lived here long enough.” She yelled. “You coming up?”

“Yeah, in a minute. I’m hungry.”

“There’s leftovers in the fridge.”

“Thanks.” Charlie walked into the kitchen and flipped on the lights. The harsh change in lighting made him squint, and he momentarily regretted even thinking about turning the lights on. But, he was hungry, and he wouldn’t get less hungry sitting upstairs in bed.

Cheese it was. He didn’t want leftover pasta, or even to heat anything up. He just needed a snack. His cholesterol was good – he could spare a little bit of his diet to the cheese gods. He chose a large chunk of cheddar cheese and drew a knife from the collection displayed proudly on the counter.

Retiring to the darkened interior of his living room, Charlie settled on his couch, placing his cheese-chunk in his mouth. He reached into his pants pockets, to see what he had gathered on his trip to the bar. Out came a set of car keys – his own, from work earlier, his wallet, his cell phone with no missed calls, thankfully, and a crumpled piece of paper that he didn’t remember. Finally flipping on the light, Charlie carefully uncrumpled the paper. It was written in pencil, smudged slightly from what looked like an eraser mark or two.

“I was here tonight, but you were too busy. Next time, we’ll meet face to face. Wear the red shirt on Monday – it compliments your eyes.”

Charlie looked, perplexed, at the note. If he didn’t wear the red shirt on Monday – would they give up? It was obvious at this point – they were serious. Well, he had pursued it so far – albeit by accident. It seemed he would continue.

Charlie folded the note and slid it into his jeans’ back pocket. He returned to the kitchen to dispose of his waste from the cheese, put the knife into the dishwasher, and made his way upstairs to his lovely, waiting wife.

The next morning, as Angela woke much earlier than Charlie, she worked her way through a leisurely breakfast and then, in a good mood, returned upstairs.

“Baby, you up yet?” She whispered in his ear, kissing his cheek in a more passionate than friendly way, if that was even possible.

“Ugh.” Was Charlie’s only response, rolling over and snoring in her general direction. Not necessarily angry, but deterred, Angela bent to quietly pick up the clothes piled at the end of the bed. It had been an exciting night, but one that resulted in a little bit of a mess.

The crumpled note fell out of the jeans’ pocket and onto the floor, weaving a slow trail through the air, tempting Angela to see what it was. If it was important, Charlie might need it. Imagine her surprise then, when opening it to find,

“I was here tonight, but you were too busy. Next time, we’ll meet face to face. Wear the red shirt on Monday – it compliments your eyes.”

In shock, she numbly folded the note, replaced it in the jeans’ pocket, and exited the room. The night before had been so perfect. Now what?

Angela shut the door behind her and leaned against the wall, her world caving in. What kind of pig did she marry? And slowly, as the incoherent thoughts of rage and pain came rushing through her head, the logic of her creative self fought through. What if it’s not what you think? What if it’s something innocent? Shut up. Angela answered her own self back. I will give him the benefit of the doubt…for now. You could always investigate it. Become Ms. Hunter. Though not an exceptionally creative name, the character had won her fame and a steady income. Follow him, the voice inside her head urged. She took a deep breath, opened her eyes, and went about her day, determined.

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