Girl About Town

That hurt, huh... her silent grief and redemption

A hockey stick rested on her shoulders as one hand opened the door. The key sunk into the key hole, turned slightly and the door swung open letting her into the nice and comfy home that was once her refuge. The place reminded her of the days of laughter and gloom sometimes. Sometimes sleepless nights of passion and other times just calm acquiescence as they worked. It reminded her of calm days that no one talked yet both found a sense of peace because they were together. Days of pranks as she was tickled when all she wanted to do was run to the bathroom to be relieved. Late phone calls at night that was dismissed.

The hockey stick swung down on the glass table leaving a web of cracks when she recalled the late phone calls. A flower vase made of clay landed on the floor breaking into smithereens. A cup left on the table during the morning rush shook and landed on the floor, breaking into two. Another swing and the table crashed down. The lawyer in her forgot the vocabulary vandalism, trespass and breaking and entry. It wasn trespass if she had a key, right? That consolation riled her up as she climbed on the sofa and crushed the picture frames of his travel photos. The hockey stick swept through the glasses as she lightly dragged it on the floor. A face scrunched in contemplation seemed to guide her slow quiet steps to a painting. Her heart rose in thrill, a wicked smile plastered her face as her hands reached out for the precious painting. The painting was unlatched from the wall and carefully placed on the sofa set. Its beauty got distorted as her heart glowed in satisfaction with every swing of the hockey stick.

♫Its a little bit too late to say that you are sorry now, you kicked me into the ground…♫

The phone sought her attention. It was a delivery notification. Perfect! She let the hockey stick down and strode to the door, opening it slightly and taking the box after confirming and paying for the delivery. Online shopping can be quite convenient at times like this, she mused. She had just gotten started. The box was settled on the sofa with the smashed painting as she headed to the cabinet containing his lovely collection of wine. Nope, she did not have the strength to open the cabinet but she had enough energy to swing a hockey stick at it. The cabinet door crushed, a hand slid the remnants of the door aside, ignoring the resulting scratches and cuts by the glass on her hands. May be a little first aid won hurt; she grabbed one bottle of red wine, opened it and poured it on her hand as she strolled to the bathroom to take a bucket. The wine swirled from the bottle to her hand and landed on the floor, staining both the tiles and carpeted areas. The emptied wine bottle flew to the wall, crushing and scattering on the floor. Non-nonchalantly, she dropped bottle after bottle of wine into the bucket she picked from the bathroom. Wine seeped from the bottles and streamed into the bucket. After half crashing bottles and half pouring the wine into the bucket, she carried it to the bedroom. May be a cocktail will do, she thought as she passed the kitchen. The watermelon that was lying on the kitchen counter was smashed and swept into the wine bucket. Bananas were peeled and thrown into the cocktail bucket. Exquisite! She smiled as she poured the contents on the well-made bed. She stood aside to admire her work of art that seeped through the bed covers, sheets and blanket.

He painted the town red with an engagement; she would paint his house rainbow. The delivery box contained enamel paint in all the colours of the rainbow. Arcobaleno! She retrieved the paint and poured it whenever she walked, from the sofas in the sitting room to the bed mat by the wet bed. The fruit flies that had already gathered on the bed were picturesque, she thought. Yellow paint ran down the smart TV and smudged evenly to completely cover it. As a finishing touch, she spray painted the wall, drawing a joker-face caricature. Under it was written the words 5 years of a joke summed by one day of this joke. Stay humored. Oh, I took the lap. If five years was a joke that could end in one day, then this one day was hers to also humor him.

She threw the spray can down after further doodles and a notice that she had taken his laptop as payment. The hockey stick was abandoned in the wreckage while she stepped out of the room like the O.G, a laptop bag on her shoulder and the sounds of Ludacris move bitch get out of the way bursting through her earphones. Her kinky hair puffed up carelessly and came together at the back, tamed by a thin black hair bobble with silver colored balls. The hair bobbles black strands camouflaged with her hair as the silver balls gave it the right amount of color. Tiny wisps of hair scattered at the front, complementing her rough look. As she looked up with her lively eyes, the round and white globes accentuated by dark pupils pierced through everyone, uninviting. A smile drew one to her round face with chubby cheeks and sepia brown lips lightly touched by gloss. A white off-shoulder chiffon shirt contrasted the black high waist short that flattered her curves, neither being too tight nor too loose. The ground seemed to be frozen by every confident step she made, brown timberland boots settling on her feet like they were meant for each other.

Whoa, such a satisfying feeling!

And such little courage to go crazy, she thought sadly as she was drawn back to her breakfast and her reality. The reality of anger on a leash, bridled anger.

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