Friday Fables: Asterism Part I

Dear Blog,

Foreword:

Sorry I took so long to post it. But here's my first ever Friday Fable, which I had earlier promised. It is going to be a mystery story composed by short scenes that all have breaks consisting of an asterism. Thank you, sit back, and enjoy.

She was close to crying. He could tell by the short, quick breaths on the other side of the line. Hyperventilation was something he had warned her about. He knew it always gave her away. But she never listened. Not that it would come to any use, anymore, now that she had turned sides. Against him. He never was used to that idea. Not even now.

***

Mr Dewitt wasn’t what you would really call a very diverting individual. Entertainment was clearly never his talent, but not many came to question themselves wether he was or not, as most people that surrounded his life were just as dull. Too dull to care. This is what you tend to expect from bankers, is it not? And -from his bold scalp hidden under his bowler hat to the tip of his freshly polished, gleaming shoes- he seemed like the perfect stereotype for one.

Mrs Dewitt -formerly known as Miss Lamb- was in fact the complete opposite. She was born to host guests, specially at a formal gathering. Why they got married, no one knew, but many found themselves contemplating the example of the perfect, ordinary day newlywed couple. Some, on the other hand, just wondered if it was real love and tried to guess what they were thinking at the very moment, which was what Mrs Dewitt was doing precisely as she spied her husband walking down the road through her parlor window. Off he was to work, again, as usual. She had no invited acquaintances that morning, so she guessed she would continue reading her current novel and wait until the evening, when Mr Dewitt would return to resume sitting at his usual spot by the fireplace smoking pipe tobacco and reading the stock market section in the newspaper. She sighed, meeting the soft touch of her armchair as she slowly began to descend into it.

***

“Herbert?”

Mrs Dewitt turned towards the sound of the opening and closing front door. Had her husband returned home from work early today? He rarely ever did so, as he greatly enjoyed it. He would even embrace the opportunity of having a late shift when his boss offered him one.

“Darling, is that you?” she tried again.

Faint footsteps were coming nearer. She recognized them at once, her blood stopping cold. How could this be? Of course, after what had happened this was surely expected, yet she still couldn’t manage to believe what she was hearing.

They came closer. So close. Until they reached the closed door that lead to the master bedroom, where she rested on the bed reading a novel, where they stopped. And then, ever so slowly, the door knob began to turn until the door was wide open.

Her gaze immediately dropped. She knew that if she raised her eyes, she would be met by that familiar gaze again.

“How nice of you to stop by,” she said, without showing any trace of emotion on her face, as she felt like dying in the inside.

To be continued...