“Do you deny it?” she asked, pinching the unknown lipstick tube between two fingers, her face red. Still he sat with an uncomfortable smile.

“How long has it been going on?” She dropped the lipstick on the dresser and walked to the closet, her slip swishing.

He didn’t respond but fiddled with his tie and tried to avoid her glare.

“I thought I could trust you when you said…” She let her sentence trail off as she pulled the black dress over her head.

The silence continued as she struggled with the zipper. Finally, he spoke: “I couldn’t help it. I would have stopped, but…”

“You couldn’t help it!” She spat the words out and stopped dressing to stare at him again. “I don’t believe that.”

His smile had disappeared. Now he looked down at his hands, which sat limply in his lap.

“I mean, what were you thinking?” She had resumed dressing and now reached for her jewelry box.

“I have this passion, honey,” he mumbled. “I felt … I had to …. Besides, you’ve been working so late…”

“Even if I’m not here, don’t I have any say in how you spend your weeknights?” She grumbled as she knelt before him. He looked up to see her slender neck, the pearl necklace he’d given her waiting to be clasped.

“I want you to trust me,” he said, clasping her hook and letting his hand graze her soft skin. “I’ll call right now. The whole thing is off.” His face looked calm, but his eyes still looked troubled.

She smiled softly and sighed, still kneeling before him. “Does it really mean that much to you?”

“Yes.” His eyes begged hers for understanding.

She sighed again and stood. “Then act in that bizarre drama.” She motioned for him to take her arm. “I just never thought I’d have a husband so obsessed with the stage.”

Last week, I practiced creating a scene and emotion in 140 characters. I did the same this week, but then I decided I needed to finish the scene. What was really happening? I had fun trying to do so.