I was a little bored so I wrote this on whim just now, so please excuse it if it is stupid and/or unpolished:
Hank Broussard pulled into his driveway at 9:07 pm on Tuesday May 17th 2005. The exact time stuck into his head because he stared at the clock all the way until it reached 9:43 pm, the time when he turned off his car and headed inside. It was that time that he gained some sort of confidence, though it was really just a feeling of "now or never".
The time he actually went inside was unknown. He knew he spent a long time gathering his things from work- his briefcase, his lunch cooler (which still had the entire lunch his wife had made for him that morning- he hadn't eaten any of it, in fact, it was on his lunch hour when he was caught). He was actually a bit surprised his wife didn't check on him after he was in the driveway for so long with the car running. She was probably busy with the kids he figured, or perhaps she had heard already...
He also took time to finish off the pint of Jack Daniels he bought shortly after he was fired. When he tried to stuff the empty bottle under his seat, it barely fit among the five or six empty bottles that were already under there. It shocked him a little; he had just cleaned out the empty bottles not a month ago and now it was already full again under there.
As he got out of his car, Hank was thoughtless. Normally he would be scanning his head to come up with one of his great excuses. He considered himself to be a pretty good liar. In fact he felt it helped him stay married as long as he had. But that night nothing came to him.
When he closed the car door and set the alarm, he noticed his wife's face appear in the window of the front door. She was only there quickly, and he couldn't see any expression on her face. He wished he had seen some kind of clue, to know if anyone from work had called her to fill her in on what happened. They had all seemed pretty disgusted and upset, it wouldn't be a surprise him if one of them had called.
As he approched the front door, he kind of laughed while he thought of how he was actually thinking of his wife when he was caught. It was the first time, really, out of all their encounters. Usually his mind was on the moment. But for some reason that day, as she had her head planted in his crotch, he though of his wife. He thought of a time before they had kids; maybe about a year after they got married. The time when she had performed the same act on him, under the deck at a family outing while no one suspected.
In fact, he was so focused on that thought that he barely heard his boss enter his office. What a sight, it must have been, he thought. Stacey jumping to her feet, quickly trying to stuff her breasts into her top as he tried to scoot his naked bottom half under his desk. He was actually surprised that they weren't caught sooner. Their encounters had certainly gone on long enough.
By the time he reached for the handle of the front door, Hank still didn't know what to say. He had driven around all evening thinking about it but had come up with nothing. He certainly wasn't going to think of something by the time he unlocked the door. He sighed and slid his key in and turned the handle.
As he opened the door, his wife was standing right there holding their son. He still couldn't read her face. He wondered if she could read his. He wanted to say a simple "hi, honey" but by then the tears were already forming in his eyes. All that came out was an awkward cry as he dropped his briefcase and fell to his knees.
Hank Broussard pulled into his driveway at 9:07 pm on Tuesday May 17th 2005. The exact time stuck into his head because he stared at the clock all the way until it reached 9:43 pm, the time when he turned off his car and headed inside. It was that time that he gained some sort of confidence, though it was really just a feeling of "now or never".
The time he actually went inside was unknown. He knew he spent a long time gathering his things from work- his briefcase, his lunch cooler (which still had the entire lunch his wife had made for him that morning- he hadn't eaten any of it, in fact, it was on his lunch hour when he was caught). He was actually a bit surprised his wife didn't check on him after he was in the driveway for so long with the car running. She was probably busy with the kids he figured, or perhaps she had heard already...
He also took time to finish off the pint of Jack Daniels he bought shortly after he was fired. When he tried to stuff the empty bottle under his seat, it barely fit among the five or six empty bottles that were already under there. It shocked him a little; he had just cleaned out the empty bottles not a month ago and now it was already full again under there.
As he got out of his car, Hank was thoughtless. Normally he would be scanning his head to come up with one of his great excuses. He considered himself to be a pretty good liar. In fact he felt it helped him stay married as long as he had. But that night nothing came to him.
When he closed the car door and set the alarm, he noticed his wife's face appear in the window of the front door. She was only there quickly, and he couldn't see any expression on her face. He wished he had seen some kind of clue, to know if anyone from work had called her to fill her in on what happened. They had all seemed pretty disgusted and upset, it wouldn't be a surprise him if one of them had called.
As he approched the front door, he kind of laughed while he thought of how he was actually thinking of his wife when he was caught. It was the first time, really, out of all their encounters. Usually his mind was on the moment. But for some reason that day, as she had her head planted in his crotch, he though of his wife. He thought of a time before they had kids; maybe about a year after they got married. The time when she had performed the same act on him, under the deck at a family outing while no one suspected.
In fact, he was so focused on that thought that he barely heard his boss enter his office. What a sight, it must have been, he thought. Stacey jumping to her feet, quickly trying to stuff her breasts into her top as he tried to scoot his naked bottom half under his desk. He was actually surprised that they weren't caught sooner. Their encounters had certainly gone on long enough.
By the time he reached for the handle of the front door, Hank still didn't know what to say. He had driven around all evening thinking about it but had come up with nothing. He certainly wasn't going to think of something by the time he unlocked the door. He sighed and slid his key in and turned the handle.
As he opened the door, his wife was standing right there holding their son. He still couldn't read her face. He wondered if she could read his. He wanted to say a simple "hi, honey" but by then the tears were already forming in his eyes. All that came out was an awkward cry as he dropped his briefcase and fell to his knees.
