I had had a terrible week, my first and only attempt of the week had been a failure, which almost ended with me, getting caught. I had to eat somehow, and trying another big prize was too risky, and stupid, even for me. So I headed the lonely store around the nice neighborhood. I saw a young women heading too a Mercedes.

I was sitting in the door step. Expecting my ring tone. Where were you? I had been waiting for an hour now. You said you where home. You didn’t answer. (typical you) I was about to leave. I was wearing my brand new trousers and shirt, with that tie you liked so much. But it was enough. I took my suit case and left. I thought about leaving a note or so, but I was angry enough to hit the door as I left.

I was a terrible cook. I was so used to cook bag-pasta, and that would’ve been enough, if I had time to cook by myself, but know, you where on your way home and I couldn’t let you see my awful cooking, so I left home and went to the store to buy the ingredients I saw in the way out in the only cooking book I had, which my mother had gave me in her desperate attempts to find me a boyfriend.
It was a calm day at the store, so I walked slowly, I had time. I went for a bottle of Bordeaux, it was the best closing for a romantic dinner. I finally paid everything, and left the store, I took my keys out and headed to my Mercedes.

A big splash of red wine flew across the parking lot, as the bottle stroked the floor. A young guy ran away in a brand new Mercedes, a young woman laid unconscious in the floor, and a cold guy left the door step in the house around the corner.

[Mrs. K i t e]