Under normal circumstances, he would have been home by now.
His imported soles in the foyer.
His leather tote by the sofa
They were gallivanting on the town,
Contemplating the intricacies of love,
Over aperitifs and tapas.
It’s been several nights like this.
The postponed meals.
The notes of pardon.
The keys on the mantle at 3:17 am.
She had not seen her husband this way, in some while.
He seemed carefree.
Like the lapel on a Ralph Lauren coat.
And though Benjamin was slowly thawing into Mr. Grey,
She was concerned for her husband,
For the frigid shell of his aura did not melt so easily.
Her concerns only mounted with each moment whittled away.
And so, she did not make dinner tonight.
For she expected them to be out.
And besides, she had plans with Lucy.
Whose keen insights and sharp wit, she thoroughly respected.
She removed her Dior trench from the coat rack, took hold of her keys, and scanned the expanse of the loft, once more, as though she had forgotten something.
Though, she simply missed her husband.
“I hope he’s eating properly.”
Mrs. Horowitz stood by the door, a scarlet smile blazing across her face.
“Oh, Claire. Boys will be boys.”
Implode. Part XXI – DK