Killing Jenny [Proză scurtă]
He had always loved Jennifer –desperately, endlessly, loved her the way he could, loved holding her tight in his arms. So that evening’s Jennifer had come out as something out of his own mind’s conception; he still couldn’t clearly recount her words, her “ain’t-got-time-for-this” lack of reasoning and her hurried, inconvenienced dash through the door. That bell had rang furiously, the bell she had got for him at some point and hung over the doorknob; it was a sound of wreckage. It was –let’s see, it was right after Jennifer had moved, and he –he had bought that Bourbon bottle to celebrate with her. And after she had left, he –what had he done? He was shaking, that he knew; shaking like the devil, somewhat in the same position she had left him, or maybe tripping and falling over himself, or maybe standing still, and the television was on, and he had turned it off, and the fuzzy noises had ceased, and he had finally come to a realization, and –he had smiled.... Read More | Share it now!