It was a casual affair. Not great as far as affairs go but one which kept him interested.
The down side was his wife, a strong willed woman capable of breaking a bats wing with a swipe of her nose. She wasn’t happy most days and the news of the casual affair had brought her nerves to fever pitch. She determined to leave no stone unturned in order to win back her man. If that failed there would be not one stone that she wouldn’t throw at him.
You see the problem just got out of hand with the discovery of a key, a spare key to be exact found in the lining of his favourite sports blazer. She was a naturally suspicious woman given to suspecting the worst of any situation.
She knew the key was not to any door in their house, that it was not like any key she had seen him bring home from work.
He claimed it was a souvenir; one he had picked up on a recent working visit to Tokyo. He loved souvenirs, he collected mountains of them, and arranged neatly on the revolving sideboard in their spacious and decadent apartment over looking the river.
The revolving sideboard was unique in that it was hydrogen powered, years ahead of it time he was always keen to embrace the newest of technologies.
In the ensuing argument she drew his attention to his obviously chapped lips. It was summer, the air-dry, how was it she asked that his lips were so chapped. A long consult he said, had to talk for hours, the air con was not working so well, my lips and my throat all suffered.
Chapped lips on a cunning chap she thought, how devious.
She followed him the next day, the traffic was thick, the roads blocked in several directions, most of them coming from their house, which did raise her curiosity but she was beggared if she gave a rats about the traffic other than that it was delaying her reconnaissance of her husbands movement.
She lost him after an hour, somewhere down town amongst the financial sector he was hunkering down with his casual affair.
She was furious, so furious she kicked an old beggar sending his money pot spilling onto the pavement, people dived to collect and pocket the coins as the beggar begged for the return of his loot.
That evening, in a stone pot upon the stove she made a rare dish, the key to it was adding what ever spare vegies you had, add in a good sprinkling of turmeric and a liberal tablespoon or two of rich hydrogenated curry and no one would ever know nor suspect the identity of the main ingredient.