Sloan was annoyed to find a car in her drive way. A perfect way to end a shitty day at work. Not only did she lose the front page to that little slutty suck-up Angala Foster, but now she couldn’t get her Bentley in the damn garage. She mumbled as she stormed in the door.
“Honey?” she surprisingly heard, and looked up the steps.
“I thought you wouldn’t be home till tomorrow?” she headed up the stairs feeling better with the thought of seeing her husband for the first time in a week. “Is that your rental in the drive way?”
A thud came from the bed room. Sloan rushed the rest of the way up the steps, and to the bed room door. A half naked woman, entangled in sheets was lying on the floor.
“This isn’t what it looks like,” he tried to argue, and walked over trying to kiss her.
“You asshole!” she said, before slapping him and turning away crying.
It was the last straw in a two year, rocky marriage that was, at times, too hard to work for.
Watching the darkness reminded her of how gloomy her life had become. Five years ago Sloan met Roger, the love of her life, and just got the city beat for the paper. Now she fighting for headlines and no husband to come home to.
Three years ago when her old boss, Jeff, left to start a news website in Chicago, he begged her to go with him. When she turned him down he told her there would be a job waiting if she ever changed her mind. Sloan watched the sun come up, and looked for his number.