Loud music filled the room, making it hard to hear anything else.
Loud music filled the room, making it hard to hear anything else. The incessant drilling from the neighbor was finally covered.
One can understand the need for sublimation after a hard divorce, but, seriously, how many holes can you drill in a two bedrooms apartment?
Truth be told, Georges had wondered the same about the number of tableware one can break when fighting. He was pretty convinced the neighbors kept on ordering fresh supplies online to be on the safe side in case of need.
Now the estranged spouse was most likely placing orders for wall joint compound, wearing a t-shirt saying: drill, fill, sand, repeat.
Georges couldn’t stand it anymore and had decided to go on a trip back to his younger years when hair was sparse and belly fat. Five hours of lullabies for babies at maximum output capabilities of the brand-new audio system he bought yesterday only for this purpose. Definitely worth the expense.
He was planning on crying like a baby, shouting primal screams all the way, eventually bringing out this pain that had been gathering since she went away.
When Miranda left her husband upstairs, she had ended their affair as well. Not bothering to come and talk, she had slipped a letter under his door on her way out. Georges knew she would have texted him if she hadn’t been so clumsy with keyboards.
Not even twenty words, what a joke after five years: «Seeing me with the neighbor from downstairs. Can you imagine? It would be such a bad soap opera.» At least his tableware was intact.
Inspired by https://www.thefirstline.com/ winter 2020 issue. Check it out! and check out my other takes on this first line:
