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This is what happens when you sleep with a woman and don’t tell her that you’re married until afterward…

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Today, she was finished. Finished with people treating her as if she was invisible, as if she had no feelings, as if she had no value. As soon as she heard him close the bathroom door, she grabbed the kitchen scissors. Her bare feet darted around the kitchen as she opened the frames of all the pictures, cut his wife’s head off and quickly slid them back into the nomatterwhereuareframe. When she went out to the living room, sure enough, a huge wedding picture was on the fireplace mantel. She decapitated that one, as well as the one on the side table of the happy couple with their friends, and placed them back in their frames. All the pictures now had the wife’s face peculiarly missing.

She heard the water turning off. She grabbed her jeans and hurried toward the door, stopping in the foyer to slide them on, along with her shoes. A circular table sat in the middle of the foyer and she sat her pocketbook on it, next to a crystal vase of flowers. She couldn’t get her clothes on fast enough. When she went to grab her purse, she saw a stack of real estate business cards with his wife’s picture on them sitting next to the vase of flowers. She grabbed one of the cards. She’d let him spend a week in hell explaining the headless pictures, then, she’d send his wife a friendly email introducing herself. She picked her coat up off the floor, grabbed her shopping bags and left his apartment feeling satisfied. She’d even stolen his high priced shirt.

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