Girlfriend Tapes -

Lena stared at her reflection in the dark TV screen. She heard the front door open. Marcus was home early. She heard him humming—that little tune he hummed while making pasta. The clink of his keys in the bowl. The soft pad of his footsteps.

“Find one?” he asked.

“In here,” she called, her voice surprisingly steady. “I was just looking for a pen.” Girlfriend Tapes

Not a number. Not a name. Just that.

“Tell them what you learned,” Marcus said. Lena stared at her reflection in the dark TV screen

Inside wasn't money, or drugs, or another woman’s earring. It was a row of old VHS tapes, the plastic shells yellowed with age. Each one had a label, written in Marcus’s neat, architect’s handwriting. ” she called