When No One Is Looking (Completed **Now Editing)

InTrO

"Sebastian?"The voice reached his ears, but his mind blocked the person out by dragging him further into his web of thought. He needed to get this sentence out.

"The man walked with a strange gait...." The words dully fell out of his mouth as his mind scrambled to piece together a distorted picture that was fragmented into millions of pieces.

"Sebastian, are you here?" The voice called again, but his irritated nerves deafened his ears.

Who was the man with the strange gait? What did Sebastian have to say about him? The man's back is arched; he's carrying a knobbly wooden cane and wearing a sailor's hat.

Again, Sebastian questioned who he was talking about, but his fingers ran across the keyboard. Darting flawlessly, each digit trying to out-type the others, Sebastian knew the letter placement of the alphabet very well. He spent many hours on the keyboard. So, naturally, he was very good at typing; his fingers worked faster than his thought process sometimes did.

"Sebastian? There you are!" His wife peeked her blonde head through the door, and he barely made an effort to peer over his monitor at her. Instead, his eyes narrowed into brown slits, ready to slice her in half; she knew not to bother him when he was like this.

But this had never happened before.

Sure he had experienced writer's block before, but it was nothing like the issue he was having now. Back, there were sprinkles of indecision, but now there was an entire drought. A total void; he had never suffered from such a lack of direction and lack of creativity that he couldn't even write a single page.

And here she was disturbing him as soon as he began to see a tiny fraction of the story come to life.

"I just wanted to tell you; I am leaving for the weekend with Cheryl. We are going to Chicago," Was she going with Cheryl? He saw the way his wife's eyes slightly shifted as she explained herself, the look of uncertainty flickering on her face as fast as a light switch. She scratched her elbow and shuffled her feet nervously.

Why was the notice so late? She has been less present at home, and she stays out later.

"Okay," He didn't care if she was telling the truth. He was not precisely tripping over his feet in with love for her anymore. He hadn't discussed the topic of divorce yet, but that was to protect himself.

"If you need anything, let me know; I am taking Charlie with me," Charlie was her ugly blonde poodle. His dog died last summer from old age.

He didn't care much for the Poodle. He regarded the puppy with bare minimal warmth, enough warmth that the puppy no longer growled at him. But he kept himself distant, just for the fact that he wasn't sure how much longer his owner would be willing to keep up the charade of a healthy marriage.

Crystal invited her dog to her rendezvous before she invited Sebastian, which started about eight months ago when his wife purchased the wretched thing. His wife was tired of faking their routine because there was no routine that they shared. Their agendas and daily tasks were utterly opposite. 
They had absolutely nothing in common. He liked Italian, but her favorites all come from the Mediterranean. He kept to himself and wanted to be alone. Crystal couldn't bear the silence; she would ramble on and on to make herself comfortable. Sebastian loved the frost of winter, and Crystal basked in the honey glow of sunsets on the beach. They didn't even share the same palette for alcohol; he guzzled bourbons and other whiskeys. While his estranged wife would usually sip glasses of champagne. If there was no champagne, the woman refused to drink anything but fruity cocktails that made his mouth dry and stomach twist.

"Sure thing, honey. I will be here when you come back," Sebastian altered his face into an untroubled facade. An easy smile slid across his lips, and he stood up to hug his wife. The author calculated his affection; the bolder Crystal became if Sebastian appeared to be the perfect husband. She thought she was sly, and he needed her to keep that mindset. She would eventually make a mistake, one big enough that he could end the marriage with the upper hand. He wasn't going to give up the success and the name he made for himself.