At 12:30pm every weekday, Roger spends 30 minutes flushing the office toilet. Like clockwork, he would rise from his desk, push his cushioned chair back into its place and stroll to the toilets, magazine tucked under his arm and whistling as he went.
Now, it never took Roger too long to finish his business. Disposing of it – that would be the tricky part. Roger would flush and flush and flush but to no avail, breaking into a sweat by the end of it. Each time worrying he would be caught.
He knows he’s being watched; with every step, her eyes burn into the back of his fleeting torso. She’d never forgive him if she found out.
Hurriedly, Roger would return to his desk, eyeing his wife who was looking at him expectantly from behind her own computer.
‘Thank you, dear. Those sandwiches you made were lovely.’
