A Short Story: A Hangover A Story?

Alison had a hangover the next day. Not a truly bad one, but she used it as an excuse to stay in bed. Peter, somewhat guilt struck, plied her with tea, but apart from that he left her alone. Now, in broad daylight, the events on the balcony seemed so improbable she almost felt it couldn’t have happened. The more she thought about it, the stranger it seemed. Respectable professors might, possibly, kiss other people, but they didn’t go around slapping them. The Professor must have been drunk as well, that was the only explanation she could come up with, even if he hadn’t seemed inebriated, He must be as mortified as Alison today and it would undoubtedly never happen again. The more she thought about it, the more she felt she perhaps shouldn’t

Peter seemed so happy and she hated to spoil his evening. She had to tell him, but she would wait a little longer. Tomorrow would be good when she had slept away the last lingering traces of the hangover.

The bath made Alison feel a lot better, and she decided to go down to the kitchen to warm some milk with honey. It was a childhood remedy her mother had always insisted on after a nightmare to calm frazzled nerves. She was still tying the belt of her dressing gown when she heard the front door open. Smiling she ran down the stairs, thinking Peter had decided to stay home with her, after all. But the person she met in the hallway was not her husband but the Professor, who was removing his overcoat as if he had just stepped inside his own house.

Alison’s smile froze. “How did you get in here? Where is Peter?”

“With a key, of course. Peter was very understanding when I had to ask him to go alone tonight.”

“How can you have a key? This is my home, you are not welcome!”

He smiled quite kindly. “My dear, I have a key because I asked Peter to give me one.”

For a moment or two the surprise made Alison unable to speak. When she found her voice again it quivered more than she liked. “He never told me. When did this