The road blurred as April’s eyes misted over with tears. She wasn’t sure why. It’s not like she had to touch him at all, and the wad of twenties, $240 dollars, felt good in her pocket; not bad for an interview. Her logical brain rationalized the situation all the way home.

That night, she asked the same small talk questions and set the same dinner table as always.
“Hi Drew. How was your day?”
“Great! How was yours?”
“Fine.”

She marveled over how easily her husband believed the plastered on smile, and how he seemed oddly cheerier tonight. Maybe this could work out.

One troubling thing kept popping up into her mind, however, Marco’s eyes. His eyes were scrutinizing, watching, at first delighted, then surprised, but finally, a devious glint flitted across them that unnerved her. What was he thinking just then? He looked satisfied, like a cat who had just caught a mouse, but was going to toy with it first. Those evilly pleased eyes haunted her. She hoped they wouldn’t be there next time.