The 42 year old former bombshell blonde was finally beginning to have small wrinkles appear on her face. Tiny crows feet had undoubtedly formed, and it greatly saddened her to see them.
What tired her even more, however, was her husband Paul. To say that she had married for money wasn't exactly true. The money was there, yes. Her and her husband had lived comfortably for many years in a nice town, with a big suburban house, and had been able to send their two kids to private school. There was a time when Maura had truly loved Paul. But the throb of her heart had gradually decreased to the point where the marriage now barely had a pulse.
She blamed Paul, yes, and his constant prioritization of his work over their family. He was often gone on long business trips, permanently glued to his work phone and computer, and could barely hold a conversation about anything else anymore. He was an absentee father and husband.
But Maura couldn't help but blame herself either. She tried her best to maintain her looks and her body. She was by no means out of shape. But the tiniest belly had formed on her middle aged frame. Her breasts had begun to sag, though imperceptibly to anyone but herself. And now there were these pesky wrinkles. To anyone else, she was still the blonde bombshell she had always been, just now in cougar form. But to herself, she was a far cry from being an attractive woman. Her confidence had taken a huge hit. And now, despite all of Paul's shortcomings, she still felt it was herself that was the bigger problem.
She made herself up for the day, but couldn't find the drive to fully dress. She donned a bathrobe, which she saw as the official uniform of dejected aging housewives nationwide, and went for a stroll in her backyard garden. She thought that may at least bring her solace.
She strode barefoot through the grass, deep in thought, barely perceiving the beautiful summer day around her.
But her sulking daydream was broken up by a sudden sound...
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