Feeling the night's coolness breezing through the silken material
of her gloves, she absently wiped them on her dress and turned
and faced the pond for a moment to collect her thoughts.
Could she really go through with this? Her eyes searched across
the small shining lake, along to the narrow shore and the trail's
edge, up the hill. Her home. She could see the very window where
she had stood just minutes earlier, and she could see too the
damned glow coming from Matthew's office, where, on their
anniversary night, he was fondling his true love, Wallaby.
Yes, she could go through with this, and would. She turned and
knocked three times on the Dutch door, so loudly that she
startled herself. She heard the short, hollow tamp of footsteps,
the clacking sound of the door latch. For an instant it felt as
if her wedding band had tightened around her finger. Irrational.
The top half of the door swung open, and there he stood, wearing
only jeans and wire-framed reading glasses. His expression bore
no surprise. A knowing smile formed on his full lips. She started
breathing again. Plumes of mist danced around her head as the
warmth of the cottage bled outside into the chilly air. He
removed his glasses and closed the top door for a moment, then
the entire door opened and he stepped back, his arm extended. She
quickly and nervously glanced around the room as she went inside,
taking in at once its simple furnishings and his things.
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