Hovel

I walk in on you both, in the back store room - in that little space that is brimming with perfect spots to conceal many things. You have made it your personal hovel. You both shift away from each other, and stare at me like deer caught in lights and it is me who feels suddenly guilty. I have hampered your infidelity. I blurt out some lame excuse as to what I am wanting and we all cough and sniff and avoid making eye contact. Later you ask if there's anything I am wanting to say, and I consider you there before me, your wife tucked away in a job that she hates while you gambol about in dark places with women you've only just met. I look at you and say nothing and hope you can read my contempt. I wish you away.