Week without a wife-Day 3

So, here we are at Day 3. It’s almost tomorrow, so technically it’s day 4, but in keeping with house rules, it isn’t tomorrow until i go to bed. And considering there’s an IV filled with Diet Mountain Dew stuck in my arm, who knows when tomorrow will get here? And by the way, if anyone’s actually reading this and has ideas on how to spruce up the joint, feel free to chime in. Where’s Bob Vila and This Old Blog when I need them?

So here ¬†goes nothing….

By the time Grey slid into the driveway, the sirens had been silenced. News sites were calling it some electrical effect, or a computer glitch, depending on which flavor you were turned into. His eyes peered through the white haze at his former home.

It was a stranger to him, more so since his folks had passed.Grey opened the car door and walked across the lawn, picking up the fallen real estate sign. He wondered why it hadn’t sold, especially in a neighborhood doing the weird suburban version of gentrification. As he unlocked the door. he saw an envelope sitting in the hallway, addressed to him. Grey stared at it, wondering what bend was coming next to his reality.

Frida shoved past him,arms full of children and assorted gear. “Don’t help or anything, Grey.” He picked up the envelope and shoved it into his pocket. The next hour was spent unfreezing kids, getting the heat turned up to normal levels, and checking that the pilot hadn’t gone out on the water heater. No sane person let the heat go completely out while a house was on the market,unless they enjoyed emergency plumbing bills. Frida glowered at him while he unloaded the car, but seemed mollified by his offer to drive out to get Chinese. Maybe it was the memory of long nights spent devouring similar meals while in a stoned haze in his basement bedroom. Or maybe it was just the relief at not seeing him for a moment while she sorted out what was going on.

It was a torturous drive to Bernie Changs,even at two blocks. The order wasn’t ready, so Grey sat down on a rattan divan, listening to it creak under his weight. Judging from the groan and his belt, he should do this less often. Grey remembered the envelope then,and pulled it out. It was unsealed, a single sheet of copy paper inside.

It read:

I’m so sorry about this, Grey.


Grey looekd around, confused, suddenly filled with panic. It was then that he heard sirens again, this time, police ones.. He ran to his car, all thoughts of Chinese food gone from his brain.


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