• Sharon’s heart sinks as she turns onto the corner of her deserted street to find that her driveway is empty. It’s 9:30… Larry should’ve been back by now. He’s off work at 7:00. In a dark way, though, she’s not surprised. This will make the second time this week, and she can’t count how many times out of this month.
    Drunk and in a daze, she approaches her doorstep and almost trips on a loose rock sitting there on the cement that makes up the steps of her porch. She swears and kicks it off to the side. Now her whole night is shot. She was hoping that she couldn’t see his faded black Riviera through the darkness, but she was wrong. Again.
    As usual, Sharon passes the sleepless hours putting about her home thinking up dumb little excuses to herself, excitedly checking the window each time she hears a passing car or sees the reflection of headlights shining through the window. Maybe he’s caught in traffic, she thinks. Or maybe his boss held him late. No, it’s not that. It’s never that.
    How Sharon wishes she had a car. Larry’s got the only ******** one they own, and he’s out God knows where doing God knows what. She’s hammered up his phone as usual, but he doesn’t answer. He never answers. She’s tired of this dull excitement stirring inside her. She swears she’ll kill him if she sees him tonight.

    Sharon wakes. She’s changed into her nightgown, a dirty ripped up flannel one that Larry loves. She tiredly stumbles off the couch, feeling the late effects of her earlier trip to the bar. She slowly slugs to the window, checking the time on her way. 3:24. And no one. No one on the street, no sign of headlights anywhere. Even the tumbleweeds have gone to sleep. Nothing.
    She sits down underneath the window, the telephone poised next to her while she falsely anticipates its ring. Thunder crashes in the far distance, and she can hear the soft patting of a fresh new rain on the window.
    Sharon wants to cry, but she’s too angry. Too depressed. Nothing will come out except aggravated moans of frustration and wonder. She’s had a suspicion all this time, but she’s been burying it deep within her, swearing up and down to herself that he wouldn’t do that to her. He loves her, right?
    As the minutes slowly wander on, her anger begins to turn to worry. She checks the clock again as a flash of lightning illuminates the inside of her empty home. The thunder seems to boom 3:28 into her mind as it registers. That’s a long time. He’s been gone for hours. Where is he? What is he doing?
    Sharon lets fear settle in and allows a secretion of tears to flow down her face. She’s scared, both for herself and for him. Something had to have happened to him; he wouldn’t possibly be out this long without letting her know.
    She sees another dull reign of headlights but tells herself not to get excited. She watches as the light gets brighter and brighter before finally settling straight onto her back wall. They turn off then and she’s already up, looking out the window and seeing what she’s been waiting all night to see.
    Without thinking, Sharon wrenches open the door and doesn’t notice the wind and rain blasting her in the face. With bare feet she’s down the pavement and onto her husband.
    He embraces her as she throws her arms around him, but he doesn’t have time to speak a word. That smell… faintly familiar but still foreign. It’s… perfume. She can smell the desire within it, and even she now understands why he would do something like this to her. It’s obviously expensive, but it’s perfume nonetheless. And it’s not hers.
    Sharon backs up, looking into the eyes of an evil man. Lightning rips through the sky and Sharon’s eyes are deep with fire. Her hair flows wildly in the wind as her mind sets itself into mania.
    Sharon turns and walks back into the house. She’s noticing finally that her feet are cold and wet as she steps through the threshold of her house, leaving the door open. Slowly she makes her way to the back room, calmly heading to her dresser. Sharon extracts a large metal object from her dresser drawer, then closes the drawer and putting the object up to her chest. She swears her heart beats faster as she strides back into the living room, object hidden from view.
    Larry turns and comes face to face with a nine-millimeter pistol. The barrel is staring him in the face a split second before a deafening bang meets his ears.
    ‘Tonight will be the last night I wonder where you’ve been.’
    Sharon watches his limp body fall to the floor and has never felt a bigger sense of satisfaction. She bends down and gives his dead lips one last good-bye kiss, smiling warmly upon his corpse. She stands and begins to walk away, tripping over something on her way. She picks it up. It’s a small box with a note on it. The note reads “To my dear wife, who I love with all my heart. It took hours to find, but I can hardly wait to see your face when you open it. I truly think it’s the perfect gift. Happy early anniversary, baby!”
    Sharon tears the box open with a sinking heart, screaming in pain and remorse when her eyes set upon a brand-new, expensive bottle of Paris Hilton perfume.