The Lover

Christine watched her husband get ready for work. She loved watching him. He would pause once, every morning, forgetting his keys or his jacket. And she would always know what it was he was looking for. She just knew. She knew him so well, and loved him above everything and everyone else. 

Other women loved watching him too. Other women tried to do much more than just watch him. He was handsome, and kind; funny too. Other women could not seem to keep their hands off of him. 

But she didn't mind. She knew that Gary was hers, and she his. They loved each other as much as two spouses could love each other. And that was really all that Christine was about. Love. 

Christine believed in luck. She believed in fortunes and palm-readers, tarot card predictions and lucky numbers. Hers was 43. And she saw patterns in the prophecies told to her, saw things that were lost upon the smaller details. She saw big pictures outlined by the vague predictions whispered at her. 

Christine had an obsession with ordering products over the internet. Every few months, she would go on a spree, ordering things from every site, getting every unnecessary necessity. She new the names of half the delivery men in the city; Chris Jordan, Daryl Coleman, Sealy Seuss, etc. 

She knew their names because she's loved all of them. She was not adulterous. She had not made love to any man but that was her husband. She had never physically fucked another man after her marriage vows were spoken. But Christine touched Chris's hand, or bent low in front of Daryl, tempting herself and them. Nothing ever happened, no words or fluids were ever exchanged, but thought of possibility excited Christine. The knowledge that she could have these men, if only for ten minutes, was a needed thrill in her otherwise boring day. 

She didn't consider herself unfaithful. After all, she was only dreaming. Dreams were for the dreamer, and nobody else needed to know about them. 

Christine tended to dream vividly, and frequently. She liked dreaming. She'd given up on several goals when she married her husband, and she liked remembering. It didn't make her sad or nostalgic, quite the opposite. To have given up so much for the sake of her husband and her marriage made her proud of herself. She knew it made her a better wife than most. It certainly made up for her dreaming. 

When her husband came home from his teaching job, all was forgotten. During the day, she cooked, she cleaned, she read magazines and went on errands. 

Christine didn't know it, but she was an incredibly boring person. Her husband saw something in her that most people never saw in anybody, and she could not have told you what that was because she didn't know herself. She had friends, but they were the kind of friends who talked about interesting things so much that they did not notice how boring she was. She was a typical female; she obeyed fashions trends, read gossip magazines, talked about her bodily insecurities and  knew how to cook and clean. That was about all she had going for her. 

But for some reason, every day when her husband came home from work, he looked at her like she was new and bright and beautiful, more so than any other person in the world. And that was why he'd married her, and that was why he loved her still. For a reason she did not know, for a reason he could not put into words. They just loved each other. He more so than she, but it was love all the same. 

only two left!