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After parking the car, I turned the engine off, pulled the keys from the ignition and put them in my purse. I was nervous, my hand trembling as I tilt...d the rear-view mirror to check my makeup.Here goes nothing, I thought to myself.It was warm out, and the breeze swirling up my skirt was refreshing as I stepped out of the car. With the door locked, I walked down the twisting sidewalk, checking the map he provided me. #16, last house on the left.Stepping up to the door, I hesitated, took a deep. "No, really?" Mom whispered, still swaying on her feet, as was I."Yeah, especially if you've had a lump on your breast." This was pure bullshit and I was sure Mom likely knew it as such but I still said it with conviction."Have you checked yours?" I asked, my hands already sliding down her shoulders and then jumping to her waist, inside the robe."No, I didn't even know about it," Mom replied."I better check, then," I mumbled, my hands slipping around the curve of Mom's waist, sliding easily. She stated several times she new her place as a trophy wife. I just show up to events and smile, or I host dinner parties/events for his office and stand by his side.Beautifully fit woman is the only way to describe her.One morning she kept checking her watch/heart rate monitor. Is it not linking up I ask her? No she says, the connection is there, I just cant get my heart rate in its target zone for some reason. Her and I usually tore up the WoD routines with no problem. Are you ok I ask? She. The apartment was elegant. Above us, there hung a lamp with a complex, twisting shape and clear, delicate bulbs. Their light shone over white walls and a hardwood floor. The walls were bare, except for a single piece of abstract art that hung along the hall. It was blue, mostly.She set down her purse on a small glass table against the wall. On the table was a glass bowl full of mail. She took out the mail, sorted through it quickly, then tossed her keys into the same bowl. "Follow me," she said.
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