Shad was leaving. She had no head and this was the last straw.
He arrived at the store raving mad. He had rehearsed his plan well. He knew it inside out, from start to finish. On cue, he paused at home and packed her things in a carton box. She had very few pieces of clothes left. Everything that he had bought her, was thrown down the drain.
Each time it was another scammer and she just never saw through them. When a mysterious African woman showed up with a ‘house burnt to the ground’ story, she gave away all of their clothes, food, and even sheets and pillows. He crashed a Bolivian China cup against the wall. It did not break. The stupid cup wasn’t made in China.
A few weeks ago, he lost everything to Mr. Rainy Day”. All the money that he had hoarded away below the Persian rug, just in case the government went bankrupt. She had sent him an urgent message:
‘Hey sweets, just turned over the funds to its lawful owner. Remember how you told me the money hidden beneath the rug was for Mr. Rainy Day? Well, you’ll never guess who just showed up! Yes, that was exactly him. And quite a handsome fella. Although he had no ID, I gave it to him anyway. How many people could go by that name.’
He was on his way to the divorce lawyer’s office when she called him again. Mr. Rainy Day just got arrested for drunk driving. Poor fella.
Shad rammed his fist into the wall. Concrete walls are usually tough, and he would have noticed the bruises under calmer conditions, but his pocket was hurting more. Last week he was ready to kill her while she slept. She exchanged her car for a pair of dancing shoes. Later he discovered that the shoes were indeed a pair of ancient Gold Clip dancing shoes. He then placed it in the almost empty store. He forbade her to give away anything else, and it was working so far.
Yesterday he locked in on a bid for the shoes and was already dancing. A guy called Madge from an online trading forum offered to buy the shoes, paying the buy-it-now price. Maybe he could recover some of the value of the lost car.
Now this message. It was over. He kicked the table that once had four chairs. She had given them to the repair man who was on a door-to-door visit. She did not remember his name and never thought of jotting down his telephone number. It’s been six months now.
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