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A January Tuesday


Bernard’s wife waited until the door clicked shut and her shoulders relaxed. She enjoyed the house to herself, it was just too quiet with him in it.

She put some music on. Sashayed around the kitchen a little. Looking forward to her day. She had a whole life that didn’t involve him. She contented herself with the fact that if he truly loved her she wouldn’t have been able to build this other life. Wouldn’t have needed to.

She was out when the police came to break the news.

Laughing too loudly to hear her phone when a neighbour called.

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