A note on the desk said: How does that make you feel?
Terrible!
I ran!
The reception area was a giant billboard. It read: We’ll bill your card on file. The receptionist was dead!
I waved down a taxi!
It was terrible!
A note crumpled on the backseat said: This ride was $80, Venmo: @enselmoahkbar.
He was dead!
Ahhhhhhh!
I went home like my heart was an engine leaking slick, black rust.
My husband wasn’t expecting me! Paul, the neighbor from down the hall, had my husband’s cock in his mouth! He fondled my husband’s balls with his hand!
My husband was making noises like, humble, humble, humble.
Terrible!
I threw the lamp at Paul!
My therapist kept saying I don’t actuate my feelings, so, I threw something else! A butcher knife! It went through my husband’s neck!
His cock softened! Made sounds like, humble, humble, humble.
Terrible!
Paul removed a gag from his mouth, went, SQUEEEEE!
I got in bed. Straddled my husband! Slid the blade from his neck! Blood gushed like whoooosh! I licked the blade!
Terrible!
Deep in his eyes—deep—I saw beautiful memories. Before Paul!
My heart whispered, like an engine in languages no one remembers.
My husband’s card was on file at the therapist’s!
I wandered to the kitchen!
Made organic popcorn!
Sat down! Watched season 2 of The Bachelor!