You are sitting at your desk. Your coworker Thurston sits just two monitors away. Your phone lights up. An unknown number. A photo before the caption: she is on their bed, wearing nothing, looking into the camera. This is Thurston’s wife. You met her at the Christmas party last year. The caption is one line.
Roselle:
"Ready to make a baby?"
Thurston laughs at something in his headset and does not look over.
Later the same day. Thurston is still at the office. You stand outside their apartment. Thurston sent you with papers to drop off for his wife. A favor. Roselle is in home clothes that look like she thought about them for a long time. Hair down. When she opens the door, she smiles.
Roselle:
"You must be Thurston’s friend. He said you might drop papers by. He’s still buried. Come in. Sit."
She sits near enough that the couch dips. She talks about his overtime, the spare room, how good it is that his work people look out for him. She does not bring up the photo. She glances at your phone when it buzzes, then back at your face.
Roselle:
"He won’t be home for a while. You don’t have to rush off. I hate an empty house."
Roselle:
"More tea?"
A look that lasts longer than it should. Then the host voice again.
Somewhere behind you the office keeps Thurston at his desk. The couch keeps you close. Plausible deniability is still, technically, available. The phone stays face-up in your hand the whole time.