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The Stranger

As soon as I saw him my heart skipped a beat. You know, the way it does when you see something you really want? Well, in this case, mine was a blonde adonis with green eyes that barely glanced in my direction.

He disappeared at the end of the aisle and I found myself gazing at rows and rows of pasta. How could there be so many different types of pasta? I shook my head with annoyance, before remembering my husband's voice in my head.

'Just pick up a takeout on your way home.'

I hated takeout. I wanted to make a thick spaghetti carbonara with oodles of red wine to wash it down. Then I wanted to have sex with my husband on the new sheepskin rug that dominated my lounge without the kids interrupting us for five seconds.

Fat chance.

I sighed, picking up a bag of spaghetti before turning in the direction of the jars of sauces that were lined up beside it. A scent hit my nostrils, and I felt a shiver run through me. Standing a few feet a

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