by Patricia J. Hale
The tree was perfect for what I had in mind.
I was patient at first. When Corinne stayed out too late with her girlfriends and left me caring for the baby, I figured: well, this one time. But no, soon she does it every week and she starts leaving the house a mess. Sleeping late and not getting my breakfast.
Also, the sex. I remember when we used to have it. Like animals we were, with her into it as much as me. Sure, I was too rough on her when she was pregnant, but I apologized and she really wanted it. Now she avoids me when I’m in the mood. She’s never in the mood.
Then she gets all chummy with this coworker of hers at the plant. Robert. I met him. Damned if he isn’t gay. What does she see in him? I just don’t get it.
She even said to me, “You need to be more sensitive, Mitchell.” Mitchell, not Mitch. Like I’m hanging on her apron strings, not her husband and provider. Ok, the shop fired me because I came in drunk too many times. It’s her own damn fault, she’s makes me drink.
I see the tree. Nothing else around. I get some rope, fake her handwriting, make a noose. Get Robert to meet her there later. Act all romantic and ask her to go for walk.
Miss Worthless refuses to go.
Don’t worry, I’ll find another way.
[Patricia J. Hale has had stories published in Powder Burn Flash, Flashshot, Flash Pan Alley, MicroHorror, Fictional Musings and Apollo's Lyre. She writes because she can't stop herself. For her latest work, see patriciahale.blogspot.com or reach her at firstname.lastname@example.org.]