Vicky First

Until a few weeks ago I was a happy person. I did not realize it, probably because nothing threatens the peaceful happiness. But it was. Would remain so even if it were not for the series of terrible events that began to happen that day. Probably does not take much to enjoy happiness: having a good salary in the marketing department of a multinational, an apartment downtown with a maid who comes to fix it every day and no heartfelt commitment that lasts more than a night or two at most.

I know that I even envy in the office. Anselmo said, that he sure knows life: single, with a sports car and all the women you want at your disposal. Rumors, some exaggerated, as I linked me to Vicky, the secretary of the director general. Well, ours was not exactly a sentimental story, but I left it because I follow the sound makes new conquests. The first sign that something was wrong was when I discovered that I followed. Well: it was not exactly a discovery, but a perception.

I sensed that someone was spying on me, to be exact. The first thing I thought was a jealous husband. I had just had a sporadic relationship with a married woman I met at a department store. People do not know the relationship arising shopping. If men they knew, haunt most stores, rather than leaving that task to the women. So then what happens happens. I had thought, therefore, to be the husband of Clara.