A/N: Drabble to release what creativity I have in some way, but cannot put into words for my other continuing Nana fic.

Nana Komatsu was doing her chores.

Her chores included cooking, cleaning, watering the plants, doing the laundry, yadda yadda yadda…

Nana Komatsu was a perfect wife.

She had done all that. Made the bed that she had slept on with her husband, Takumi Ichinose; cooked breakfast for him, straightened his jacket and his collar, waved him off to work happily; watered the plants and now she was on Chore Number 4: Doing the Laundry.

Rule Number One for Doing the Laundry: Sort out the clothes. Dress, jeans, dress, top, scarf, pants, jacket, black shirt, white shirt, white shirt…

A little red mark caught her eye. On the soft white shirt she was placing into a pile. Little red mark, oh almost too small to be seen. She wished she hadn't seen it. But oh well, it could be anything, from ketchup to paint to blood to lipstick…

Almost subconsciously, Nana lifted the shirt up and snuggled into it. She breathed in her husband's cologne, the smell of tobacco and smoke… And something else.

"Miss! Would you like to sample our new fragrance for women? It's called 'Seduction'!"

An eager promoter's cry rang through her head.

Seduction indeed.

Nana hurled the shirt into the pile and stuffed all the clothes into the washing machine vehemently and violently, forgetting all about piles and sorting and whatnot.

She caught sight of herself in the mirror when she slammed the machine door shut: messy hair, her clothes rumpled from crouching on the floor, face flushed with, with what exactly?

Anger? Betrayal? Denial? Hurt? Relief?

When her husband came home that night, her hair was in place, clothes changed out of and neatly creased, face made up to perfection. There was dinner on the table and the pile of laundry was sitting freshly ironed in the closet. Plants were watered, beds made perfectly, house squeaky clean and smelling of… Lemons.

Like I said, Nana Komatsu was a perfect wife.