jaylar
Yesterday, Eric Stern had sat in his chair, holding a note written by his wife, Anne, stating that she had taken their daughter to ‘the Caribbean’.
He had sat in the chair staring at nothing, his mind blank, and fell asleep, only to awaken at dawn, fully dressed, down to his shoes.
Eric forced himself up, went into the bedroom. His wife’s cosmetics were gone. He assumed various items of clothing had also been taken but was unsure. He stumbled to the bathroom, used the loo, then into a shower, eyeing his flabby body. His ugly slack body which had once been athletic.
He shook his head roughly and tried to wash a semblance of reality into himself, but failed. Eric went for his razor; but stopped. Anne shopped Monday afternoon. Clearly she had not shopped, hence there would be no razor. He could not shave.
This did not upset him.
He remembered when he had first met Anne he’d worn a small beard, which he had liked. His hair was a light brown but his beard was blond and he felt the contrast clever.
Anne thought he ought shave it off, and he had. For fifteen years he had. Not today.
