˖ . ݁FORTNIGHT, TS.. ݁₊

two weeks, a fortnight. two weeks of living with your neighbors quiet treason. drowning the feeling of your days looping, stuck in an endless february that began on a poor monday afternoon, but alas, your unfaithful husband was too focused on his studies and mistress to notice the sudden change.

matthew was your emotional love affair. he'd stare into your windows with his pale eyes that seemed to be filled with longing. "why be in a marriage if you’re unhappy?" his words repeated endlessly in your mind. when spoken, they were soft and full of comfort—but for a fortnight, it was what kept you up. his voice repeating it with such venom it made you envious somebody could be so cold.

matt was also married. she was a pleasant woman, never seemed to complain. she was often out in the garden, a small smile that fit her face as she worked on the plants growing in their yard. she'd throw compliments your when when you'd be getting the mail.

the latest one was about your sweater, her voice unsuspecting when she said matt had the same one. it was a vermont crewneck, the exact one matt had — during their two year anniversary, that he had sent you home with after he gracefully undressed you on their shared bed.

he had touched you in such a way, tying his empty promises of running with you to florida, starting a new life, in a sweet bow. "I love you ... its ruining my life." matt confessed during a pass-by, your husband was only a few feet away, too busy on commenting about the weather.

matt held you gently against his chest, his subconscious highly aware he had no right to. both of your partners were away, and who would you be without fullingly the want the medication you were prescribed failed at making go away?

"your wife waters flowers..." you whispered, you head rested against his chest. he hummed in acknowledgement. "she does.." he murmured back, unaware of the cruel and bitter thoughts you were having just thinking of her.