Photo prompt @ A. Noni Mouse
Her husband thought she loved to cook, which she did, but not exactly. He thought she liked the cleaning up after, which she did not, or not for the reasons he believed.
She didn’t correct him. It worked right fine for her that he would sigh contentedly after they had finished eating, and then transfer his happy belly to the den to read the paper or watch some TV.
Washing up gave her the perfect place.
Her neighbor, body glistening, exercising in the room he’d made into a gym, its window facing her sink.
She thought of it as dessert.
For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers
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