men’s pointy leather shoes stuffed with…  something.  money? beans? i don’t know.
a cassette tape including the last words of my husband.  he died in a helicopter fire. the government set him up.  i was going to prove it. aethy’s husband discovered it in my belongings and said “this is your husband?’ yes. “does she know?” no. no one knows.  it was a secret mission but the real secret was hidden even from the men that carried it out.  my husband only suspected but i am sure of it. so, are we going to fuck or not?
aethy comes home as we’re lovelessly, even lustlessly, going at it. we’re just trying to get the job done. i throw his clothes at him even as he tries to pull me against him.  i scold him. do you want your wife walking in and seeing us together? really? we dress quickly.  too quickly. i open the bedroom door and offer to help aethy and emmy set up.  they are already prepared. aethy is ecstatic that emmy has discovered a new way to make toast. it’s going to revolutionize the world! she fires up the camper stove in the entryway, throws bread on the flames, then turns it off. voila! perfect, slightly burnt toast! we sit on the floor of her disorganized bedroom eating plain toasted bread and surround by laundry. i point to my bra behind her and say “that’s my bra behind you. i don’t want you thinking your husband was guilty of anything. the underwire was bruising me so i took it off.”  she groans in commiseration.  she haaaaaaaaaaaates underwires! she suspects nothing.