Suspicious Eyes

She eyes me suspiciously as I try to ignore her accusing stare. Does she know? I've been careful. I always change my clothes before coming home. I'm even careful controlling my demeanor around her, I tell myself. But somehow I think she knows.

I try to make small talk, but she responds only with stony silence. It's like she's peering into my soul. I know she has pierced the thin veneer of my reckless ruse. No matter where I walk, where I go, her eyes follow. I give in and confess.

"I'm sorry," I sob. "I've been seeing another cat."