The light turns on as she opens his car door and steps out.
He watches her get into her car and drive off. Her taste and smell linger in his thoughts on the drive home.
At 6:54: She’d walk in, kiss her husband, ask him about his day.
7:27: They’d arrive at the restaurant, just in time for the 7:30 reservation.
10:10… Shuffling into the late night movie.
12:30 – At home, and into bed.

If someone asked him about the relationship, then he had canned reply #1: “casual sex, no strings attached.”
If someone asked him what made her different from the others – canned reply #2: “nothing.”

No one ever asks if he enjoys it; so there is no canned response #3… He might fake a smile; but, it’d twitch unnaturally at the corners. The edges of his lips wouldn’t quite understand that they’re not supposed to be frowning. And he wouldn’t answer – his voice would be equally confused.

I want it. I can’t stand not having it. I can’t let it go.

The confusion between love and sex never goes unpunished.