WRITING: F/S Person POV (Continued)

A tiny overlap and continued narrative:

You light a cigarette and drag the phone cord through the kitchen, out the door, into the garage because your wedding vows included never smoking in the house. But you won’t tell Brad that because he’ll think Jeffrey is a brute or worse, that you’re still the mouse you always were but then again, isn’t that the woman who he’s calling?  That brings to mind some memories that make it easier to even think of interrupting and reminding him that you were halfway out the door.  But bless his heart the man remembers some things about you too and he’s telling you he misses them and are you still as cute and little as you were?  You blush as he describes that fuchsia pink bikini and wonder what you ever did with that and then remember that you finally threw it out when it got pissed on by the cat who hid up in the attic for two weeks before she died.

Now you’re more relaxed, convinced that this is all quite normal and all right since after all you lived with Brad for nearly seven years and should be friends. Just when you let your guard down he’s halfway into a memory that sounded good until the last part where you and he and the couple who lived in New York City but came home on weekends are walking down the street at midnight stark naked to the beach and somehow you don’t remember that at all.

The son of a bitch got the wrong story.  The wrong broad.