orley Munson sat looking at Constance Freeman as he wondered what to say next. They were seated at a little table (in the cabin in the woods) and Constance Freeman was removing the newspaper wrappings from
a pair of fish & chip orders that she had brought from town for their dinner.
Morley Munson glanced down at the one she put in front of him – an ad for adult diapers caught his eye, along with the call for submissions for a local photo contest. The rules were covered with grease (and unreadable) so he looked back up into the waiting eyes of his mistress.
Morley Munson started to nibble at a group of limp fries while Constance Freeman bit into a piece of battered cod. A drop of oil ran from her lips to the edge of her chin and then splashed onto the table below. Their eyes met. They each tried to smile but the tension in the room was palpable.
Morley Munson knew that the time had come to tell Constance Freeman the truth, no matter how painful it was for her (and him) and no matter what her reaction might be. He reached over and grabbed the hand of this woman that he loved; he looked deeply into her eyes and whispered,
“I don’t want you to worry about your husband any more. He’s been dealt with.” Morley Munson could tell in an instant that his message was clear and Constance Freeman smiled thinly. Evenly. She let out a slow sigh of relief.
Morley Munson looked down at the fork sticking out of the fleshy part of his left hand. In a flash, Constance Freeman had driven it into his open palm. “That’s for lying to me,” she said. She got to her feet and left (without another word).