He belched again, tasting last night’s rabbit. Less than pleasant memories of the dinner and what came after. Huddled under his umbrella he waited to cross at the lights, surrounded by sad faces. Everyone in black of course, except for the white of athletic shoes worn by secretarial women. Downtrodden, they responded by taking extra care with their appearance, right down to their perfectly clean stilettos. Sharp heels complemented sharp nails, sharp hairdos, sharp tempers. He gritted his teeth; last night again.

She’d been right, he knew that. But his fist still clenched around the umbrella handle as he stepped out, splashing in the puddles at the road’s edge. A sneer coloured his mouth and nostrils flared. The scene replayed in front of his eyes, different this time. This time he lashed out before she said those words that couldn’t be taken back. Bitch! Forgetting where he was, he sent the umbrella flying. Cold rain brought him back to himself in time to hear the squeal of tyres. Then darkness.