One Rose Too Many

A scent of dusk. Or dust. Karmel woke up, lying in bed next to his lover. One of them, anyway. "Be a dear, get me my mug, love," he said. Next to Karmel, a womanly body heaved. With a stretch and a yawn, she lazily got out of bed. "Coffee?" she asked. "Anything," he said. The woman climbed out of bed and trod into the kitchen. Little burbles came out of the kitchen, and the smell of roast coffee. "Do you really love me?" she asked. "Why yes, of course I do," Karmel answered without any doubt. "Then why do you always make eyes at other women?" she asked confusedly. "I already told you," he said. "I love them a lot and one's my wife."