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Life is only what you wonder.

Tuesday, March 16, 2004

A Five Minute Story


If I had been caught in the act while searching through my lover's closet, I wouldn't have been able to explain exactly what I was searching for.
Something, anything, that would confirm my suspicions.
I was like Nancy Drew, searching for clues.
All I knew is that my lover had been acting odd lately. Going out and not telling me where he was headed and then acting all evasive when I asked, recieving calls from unfamiliar people (which he would take in the soundproofed room in the basement), strange mail with no return address, which were never left lying around, and acting all jumpy when I inquired about them.
Even if there weren't any clues, I still would have known Something Was Going On.
I wasn't and have never been phychic, but I've been with the same man for almost two years. After that long, you get to know someone pretty well.
Things had been really odd lately, his behavior wasn't normal. His embrace was different, his kisses not as passionate, and sex hadn't happened in almost two weeks.
He's cheating. That's the thought that entered my head. If he's not getting it from me, he's getting it somewhere else.
I looked through his jeans, finding scraps of paper with phone numbers on them, which didn't really prove anything, dammit!
I had phone numbers in my pockets sometimes, and I certainly wasn't cheating.
I started looking through the boxes stacked on the closet floor. Old pictures, mostly. Momentos. The Teddy Bear his aunt gave him the day he was born.
I felt like dirt invading his privacy like this. If he knew I was going through his things, he'd be really pissed, but I couldn't help myself. I couldn't have stopped if I wanted to.
In the last box, in a duffle bag, wrapped up in an oily towel, was a gun. I looked at in in horror, questions flooding my mind.
What was this thing doing in my house?
And: What had he gotten himself into?
And: Why was there a fuggin' gun in my house?
I heard a noise on the stairs. He was home.
I quickly stashed the gun back where I found it, by heart beating like a drum in my chest.
I had no idea what I was going to do.