"How was your day?" Mrs. Little asked, setting two of the three plates on the oak dining table.
Mr. Little sat a bit straighter in his seat, his brows furling slightly. "It was.. uneventful." His eyes didn't leave his phone as he read a rather long text.
Mrs. Little didn't seem to be content with that answer, she merely huffed and said nothing. She placed the last plate in front of her seat, across from Mr. Little.
Pushing a stray curl away from eyes, Mrs. Little clasped her hands together and bowed her head. After a quick prayer, thanking God for her dinner, she ignored her husbands dismissal. Digging into her plate of grilled chicken and sides of scalloped potatoes and steamed asparagus.
Mrs. Little was a health conscious woman. With a history of heart disease on both her and her husbands sides of the family, keeping a healthy diet was necessary. That, and Katie Holman, next door liked to gossip about her neighbors eating habits.
Appearances weren't everything but they were something.
Mr. Little ate quickly, leaving no room for small talk between his wife and himself. His mind was preoccupied with doing work; or rather, who he was doing at work. Melissa, a pretty young intern with a good sense of humor and an even better body.
Mr. Little would never label himself as a cheater, no, he just didn't see his wife in the same light as he did twenty three years ago.
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As the mid October night droned on, the Little family were busy with doing menial things.
Mrs. Little was occupied refolding her negligée; it wasn't necessary, as she hadn't worn any in quite some time. But after paying what she did for it, Mrs. Little was determined to keep it in good shape. Incase Mr. Little had a moment of spontaneity.
Mr. Little was in his office. His desk was cluttered with paperwork and his double monitors had multiple tabs open. Mr. Little looked busy, that was what he was trying for. He was actually in a conversation through text with Melissa from work. She had gone shopping earlier that day and was modeling everything for Mr. Little. He was the one who funded her spree.
The house was quiet with both parents occupied.
It was a pregnant silence.
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The hallways of the Little's upperclass house were lined with photos. Displaying the families annual beach exploits and their many Christmas's together. Smiling faces lined the hall, a misleading warmth filled the photos.
Three occupied rooms were lit with lamps, giving a soft warm glow to the house. Noisy neighbors couldn't see into the house but the outward appearance was welcoming, giving onlookers the idea that all was well in the lives of the Littles.
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And maybe it was.
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