“Charlie?!”
No answer. I shot out of bed, oblivious to my nakedness in the mirror staring back at me.
“Where did you go?” I wondered, reaching for the floral robe he’d bought for me; how long had it been. 5 years? 6?
Wrapping it over me, I stalked into the hallway of our modest Las Vegas home, and took to pounding on the old hag’s bedroom door!
“Dolly! Where’s Charlie,”
Through the door, the old woman shouted, “Gone. He left!”
“Left? What do you mean he left?” I shouted back.
The door opened, and the short wrinkled old coot looked up at me with her one foggy white eye, “I mean he left. Packed up his things and left last night!”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” my heart sank. My throat ached, and my eyes leaked tears.
Dolly hated me; i just knew it.
“Seems your life of fires and fancy have finally bored him. Face it honey,” Dolly said, “He doesn’t love you anymore.”
My teeth clenched, and something came over me. I could not explain it.
My hands released Dolly’s neck.
She crumbled to the floor in a heep.