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Bon Journal

The other woman

He never comes home anymore.

No, that's not quite true.

He does come home, when I'm not around.

I can tell.

I still stock the kitchen full of his favourite snacks. I still leave dinner out for him, in case he gets hungry.

Once he came back when I was here. He went straight to the kitchen without even looking at me.

I suppose it must be unconditional love that I still wait for him. I wait for him to acknowledge my existence again.

I know he's seeing someone else.

Once when I was able to get close enough, I smelled the scent of another woman.

In the last few weeks when I did manage to catch a glimpse of him from afar, I noticed that he's lost weight.

I know who it is.

One evening after work, I finally took up the courage and knocked on her door.

Much to my surprise, she welcomed me inside.

He was nowhere to be found. But somehow I knew he's been there.

With a touch of guilt, she said, "Your cat has been sleeping here. I hope you don't mind."

27 June 2001