She seemed different—subtly so, but different nonetheless. She came home one night smelling unlike herself. She acted casual about it all, but it was written all over her face. I don’t know the guy, but I have a totally morbid obsession with him.
She thinks that I found out because of a text that she forgot to erase, but I’d actually been following her for quite some time. I cut down on hours at my job, and I watched them when she got out of work. Part of me wanted to explode from within the confines of my truck and confront them, but another lesser part of me also liked seeing her happy again.