Anatomy of a Breakup (750 words)

Anatomy of a Breakup in 750 words

I saw her walk out with him. Together. They were holding hands. About halfway to her car, they stopped. She kissed him deeply. That's it I said to myself. I opened my car door and started for them. I was closing the distance, roughly 25 feet away when she saw me. She dropped his hand like it was a hot potato.

"Hi James. I didn't' expect to see you. Have you stopped by to walk me to my car?

Stepping between her and her boyfriend I grabbed her left hand and stripped it of her wedding rings.

"No James. What are you doing? Nothing's going on between us. This is my boss, Gerald. Gerald, this is my husband, James"

He offered his hand and I slapped it away. I had no reason to be polite to this chicken shit wife stealer.

"Wrong again Susan. Don't you mean, soon to be ex-husband? Just as soon as I can find a lawyer. Don't come to the house tonight. You don't live there anymore."

"Goodbye Susan. Forget you!"

With that I walked away.

I got into my 94 Vette and burned rubber out of the parking lot. I headed to the house.

On entering I grabbed our wedding picture from off the wall over the fireplace and exited through the front door and threw the framed picture as far out in the street as I could. The glass flew everywhere. Returning inside, I put my house key into the deadbolt and broke it off. That'll keep her from getting in. Then I went to the back door and pulled a knife from the block. I jammed it between the trim and the door frame essentially doing the same thing.

I then went to what used to be our bedroom and opened the window, I gathered all her hanging clothes that I could carry and threw them out the window. Back to the closet to grab the rest and I threw them out as well.

Then the contents of her dresser followed the clothing and lastly her personal possessions. Her perfumes, jewelry and incidentals found themselves scattered across the lawn.

Then I grabbed a bottle of Jack Black and poured myself a drink and sat down in my chair in the living room. I found a game on Monday Night Football and before long I got interested in the Cowboys and half forgot what had transpired. That is until I heard a male voice outside the front door asking me if we could talk. Oh, hell no! Get the hell off my porch. And take the bitch with you, I thought.

"Go to hell" was my answer to his inquiry. I assumed he was the fuckhead I'd seen with Susan earlier.

"James, it's not what it looks like." The bitch speaks!

"You mean it gets worse?" I asked. "How long have you been fucking him?"

"Please James I just want to talk."

"Fuck you, Susan. We're done. Go on home with your boyfriend."

"Damn it James. He's not my boyfriend."

"Don't give me that crap Susan. Were over and done."

They left. I guess she finally got it through her stupid head there was no us anymore.

The next afternoon I rolled past them getting into her car. I followed them, which wasn't easy, in a British Racing Green Corvette. When they pulled into a motel I parked in the next block. I walked back to the motel office. I always carried a couple of c notes in case of emergency. I handed them over to the clerk.

"Here. This should cover a new door, room 102. Do me a favor and wait 15 minutes before calling the cops. Comprende?"

With that I walked back to 102 and kicked the fuckin door down. The whore was on her knees, her naked breasts hanging out.

"I don't think we've formally met" as I let go a haymaker to his right jaw. I kicked the shit out of his groin and stomped on his chest. He was done. She was screaming so I figured time to go. I heard sirens. I hoofed it back to the Vette and used the 5.7L V8 engine to do what it was built to do. Get as fucking far away as fast as possible. I stayed a couple of nights in a motel and then went to the house after dark. I returned to work the next day. No one came after me.