22/03/50
My husband asked me something peculiar today. He actually asked me quite a few peculiar things.
The first thing he asked was if I remembered where I met him. How am I supposed to remember something as silly as that? Why would I want to? I only remember important things. Where I met my useless husband is something I am more likely to repress than to voluntarily remember.
The second thing he asked was a bunch of questions about the show that was on the parlor. I couldn't answer them, because frankly, I hadn't been paying attention to it. I just gave him a few brush off, "I don't know, why don't you watch it," answers.
The next thing he asked must have been the strangest one. He asked me about a girl that used to live next door. I think I heard something about her dying a week or so back, and told him so. What I really wanted to know was why he wanted to know. She isn't the type of girl most firemen want to be associated with. Well, most firemen wouldn't want to be associated with any young girls, for that matter.
It really got me wondering. How did he know her? Why did he ask about her? She is like me, except more obvious. A lot more obvious. I seem to fit in, but her and her family stick out like a pimple on pale white skin.
Now I'm really curious about my husband and that girl. With my luck he did something stupid like cheat on me with her to get back at me for being obsessed with the parlor. I don't want to have to deal with the messy emotions he might have because his lover died – or have to pretend to be heartbroken that he cheated on me.
Lucky I'm out of sleeping pills, or I might have test tasted the whole bottle again.
>Millie
