Pinky's Flash Fiction
Lola stuffed the corner of the letter under the bread container where she could be sure Chris would find it.
‘Ha!’ she thought, ‘A nice little surprise for him to find when he arrives home.’
Suddenly, with nervous afterthought she decided to check it one more time. Sliding the note out and opening the folded paper she reviewed her shaky writings.
Dear Christopher,
Firstly, thank you for picking me up from the airport last night and wining and dining me at our favourite restaurant by the river. You called me every night I was away to check I’d opened one of the seven cards you’d so eloquently penned and left concealed in my suitcase; one for each day. ‘Such a romantic man,’ I thought. ‘My soulmate.’
The flowers, the quartet of violins, the private terrace and your romantic proposal, gosh, last night was like a fairy tale.
I awoke this morning to find your note telling me to enjoy my lie in and to let myself out of your unit at my leisure. I luxuriated under the doona thinking about our future and your beautiful words to me last night. I held the diamond ring up to the sunlight streaming gloriously through the window and watched the carats sparkle.
I’ve never felt so warm, contented and safe. Our lives could not be more perfect, Chris.
Then I found them.
Was one week too long for you to wait for me, my virile Narcissus? Did you endeavour to fight your carnal desire but discovered seven days was just too long a time to resist quenching your animalistic needs?
The three long, blonde hairs on your pillow slip were hard to miss.
At first I tried to come up with an explanation. Your housekeeper’s hair perhaps, I desperately grasped at straws. Then I recalled Mrs. Cheeseman’s short, matronly, grey bob.
Well Chris, I’d like to say thank you for the good times. I can see this relationship meant much more to me than you.
As the ancient Chinese saying goes, I hope you rot in hell.
Lola.
P.S. The diamond ring is in the toilet bowl and I’ve concealed the bag of prawns from your fridge somewhere special. I’m sure you’ll sniff them out eventually.
Satisfied the note was adequately pithy, Lola heaved her handbag over her shoulder and pulled the deadlocked door of the unit closed; a symbolic closing of one rather large window in her life.
Trembling with emotion, she walked past Chris’ spoiled Afghan hound lounging on the patio and stopped. She’d miss Sheba. Despite her constant slobbering, Lola found her to be an affectionate old mutt and she felt sad she’d never see the dog again.
Lola stooped to rub the dog’s neck just behind her furry ears. It was the place Sheba loved to be stroked the most.
It was then Lola noticed the long blonde hairs all over the patio decking and the penny dropped.
She glanced back in horror at the deadlocked door and wondered why she’d never asked Chris for a key.
Don't forget to check out the first five chapters of Lee-Anne Walker's exciting new novel, "Eyes of Violet" on Pinky's Previews
