As usual, he couldn’t sleep through his flight. She kept him awake.
He used to call her lightning in a bottle, but she always laughed it off.
But it was true. She exuded passion. Always, in every way.
She made love with ardor, argued like she was at war and laughed like a maniac.
He got into his car, loosened his tie and closed his eyes in dread.
Now, he had to go home to his wife. That sinking feeling returned.
They loved each other, yes. But she wasn’t one for passion. Of any sort.
Hell, he couldn’t remember the last time she smiled, let alone laughed.
She wasn’t her.
This was a game he was used to playing.
Away, with her, there was happiness to be found, bliss.
Home, with her, there was melancholy, drudgery.
He felt the wedding ring on his finger, let out a deep breath.
He asked himself the same question, for the millionth time.
‘When they’re both the same person, is it cheating?’