Good night. — Enjoy your evening, — Vanessa said, smoothing her skirt before heading to the elevator. The door closed.
Another ten minutes passed. Paula had finished her tea when the lock scraped uncertainly. Mike slipped into the apartment sideways.
His tie was twisted around his back. His hair stuck up in every direction, and his face was bright red from the humiliation of the evening. He hunched his shoulders, avoided eye contact, and generally tried to take up as little space as possible.
He walked past the kitchen without even turning his head. Silently disappeared into the bathroom and locked the door behind him. Running water started up inside: Mike was washing off the wreckage of his managerial collapse.
Paula smiled. She tucked the two thick envelopes from her husband’s relatives into the pocket of her cardigan. There was more than enough money inside to buy the gold earrings she had been admiring for the last six months.
She cut herself another generous slice of the cherry chocolate mini cake, scooped up the sweet filling with her fork, and ate it with real pleasure. Happy birthday to me, she thought. It had turned out to be an excellent day.
