Regular.

And she trembled.

Frank Lansing was a regular. He was neither bright nor dimwitted, neither handsome nor ugly; and if you asked Frank he would be the first to tell you he was nothing more than basic. He enjoyed it that way, life that is; it kept him out of trouble, he neither failed nor flourished, always riding the unchanging waters of normalcy. He was never disappointed because he expected nothing which is why she must have caught him by such surprise. She, being Jennie Fields, the pride and joy of Adamsville, Mississippi, recent Law graduate of Mississippi State University, and the owner of a smile which would test even the most pious of men. And for some ungodly reason she seemed to like Frank and even invited him out for a drink. Frank already knew that this would never work and that she would soon discover he really was just a middle age balding man who suffered from athlete’s foot (of course the athlete part being a bit misleading). But one date turned into two, weeks into months, and on their one year anniversary he proposed to her, and she accepted. It snowed in Hell that day.

They settled down in a gated community right outside of Marlboro. The summers were warm and mild and the winters biting. He worked late nights while she maintained the house. She would always fall asleep first while he laid and watched. He would slowly run his fingers across her bare back and count all the ways that she was too good for him.

She began to make monthly trips to Boston, to visit her sister. He never cared for his sister in law; she was pompous and arrogant and would always remark on how simple he was. Though he did not disagree the actual vocalization of this fact was a bit much for him to handle. So he spent those weekends alone, catching up on his reading and attending to growing puzzle collection.

Frank Lester had never experienced paranoia until he brought her car in to have the oil changed. He had bought the car for their first anniversary. It only had 5,000 miles on it.

Six car-lengths was the distance he kept. She drove about ten miles on the interstate then exited. She made a right on Dorchester, a left on Lincoln, and parked in the alley. She rang the doorbell and a man answered. They kissed and went inside.

Infidelity has a certain smell. It’s a combination of sex, lust, and wasted time. A burning 8mm also has a certain smell to it.

Frank Lansing was a regular.