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Every Little Thing

She couldn't shake the nagging feeling that she'd forgotten something. But what?


Cheryl rifled through her purse yet again, racking her brain to figure out what she had forgotten. Cell phone, check. Wallet, check. Keys, check. (Duh. She couldn’t have driven to work without those, now could she?) Gym card, check. She opened the wallet and confirmed (well, reconfirmed — no, actually, re-reconfirmed) that her driver’s license, cash and credit cards were all present.

With a sigh, she started to punch in Steve’s number, but slammed down the receiver of her desk phone before reaching the last digit. No, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. Not after what he’d said last night. What was it he’d called her? Oh yes, "pathologically scatterbrained." Nice, huh? True, she’d been a bit distracted lately, but she wasn’t cuckoo for cocoa puffs, as he obviously thought.

She closed her eyes, determined to recall the item she’d left behind on her own, even if it meant replaying the entire morning step by step. It would come to her eventually — it always did — and Steve would be none the wiser. He didn’t need to know about every little thing, after all.

Louise arrived in the next cubicle with her usual medley of clatter and chatter.

"Aren’t you the lucky one, able to sit here and meditate. So hubby’s home with the baby?"

Cheryl opened her eyes and stared at her coworker.

"What?"

"Well, I just dropped Isabel off downstairs at the day care, and your Christopher wasn’t there, so I assumed he must be with your husband."

"Oh, yes, he is. But Steve isn't staying home today — he’s just going into work late. In fact, I’m supposed to meet him in the parking garage in a few minutes, so I’d better head down there. Thanks for reminding me!"

Hopefully the baby would still be sleeping when she got to the car so she could drop him off at the day care without anyone asking prying questions or, heaven forbid, wanting to talk to her husband.

He didn’t need to know about every little thing, after all.

*
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