Story Noir

Nice weather outside, sunny and bright. How could this bullshit happen on a day like this? Why couldn’t a storm be roaring, or at least fine gray rain drizzle down? People went along the street down there, whistling cheerily, and I brooded over my life up here.

Fuck! That was Mrs. Higgins, crossing the street. I stepped back from the window, cautious not to let her see me. With my back to the wall next to the window, I once again looked at the mess in the living room. My thoughts whirled, and I had to suppress a fit of giggles. Arrival of the cleaning lady at the scene of crime! What could I do? I should have known, I told myself, it was Thursday, after all. She had the keys to Joe’s apartment, of that I was sure, so she could clean up his mess when he was away on his business trips. Fuck! This damn bastard! How could he get me to doing this to him! I watched the red marks on the hyperwhite expensive carpet. Still liquid. Another fit of giggles: the fire escape. It seemed I’d live in a cliché from now on.

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