Short, sweet or scary

Something red

“I know you did it.” She dropped the bomb and walked away to the kitchen.

“You know what?” He yelled back. Damned, if she knew, everything was lost.

She was busy doing the dishes. “You don’t have to hide it any longer.”

He walked toward her, grabbing her arm, pleading.

“How come you know? Who told you?”

“Nobody told me anything; I figured it out myself. I am no dummy, you know.”

“Who said you were a dummy?” He was stalling for time.

“Well, you did the other day. It hurt pretty bad. I was not too fond of it a bit. And then I figured it out while you were busy yesterday. I overheard you talking on the phone, you see.”

What did I say, he was thinking. Yesterday, what did I say to her on the phone? Was it compromising? Was he talking dirty to her like he loved doing because of the suspense? He couldn’t remember much of the secret conversation he had in the garage.

“What time was it when you overheard me?”

“It was ten past two in the afternoon.”

“What did I say,” he was getting irritated—silly woman, eavesdropping.

“You said… Something red, Something for the 24th. You know it’s our anniversary, the 24th.”

Shit, I forgot about that. I was talking to Gina about her birthday on the 24th. I was talking about a red bikini. For our trip next month to Acapulco.

“Something red for our anniversary? Ah, I remember, I was talking about a red flag for our anniversary. Things you didn’t need. Like a toaster. What did you think I was talking about?”

“Well, of course, you bought me that red Honda I wanted. I knew you’d come through in the end. Thank you, darling.”

WC: 297