There's not a cloud in the sky. She leaves the office by midafternoon. It's time to get ready for the evening, when no one looks at the clouds anyway. By then it's only the lights that people look for, and not the ones in the sky either. She does not take the subway. There is a taxi already waiting out front. There are people that take care of these things ahead of time. Her shoes are black heels. Pointed toes- not too high, not too low. Her persona is enough to make a presence. She wipes off the corner of her mouth as she closes the door behind her. Down the elevator, out the door. She gets into the car waiting and goes home. The man behind the door is not her husband. But he has slipped an envelope into her purse.
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