They exchange secrets; two strangers on the bus.
She tells of her husband’s affair–his betrayal, her anger.
“I wish him death,” she hisses.
The old man nods; reveals the skeletons in his closet.
“I can help with that.” He gives his card.
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I liked the contrast between the angry lady and the man for whom murder is just a business deal. Unfortunately, when I first read this, it was on mobile and a large ad appeared right in the middle of the poem, making it look like “skeletons in his closet” was the final line… dumb internet.
Thanks so much for alerting me to the ad issue! It’s been on my to-do list for a while now and your comment prompted me to actually get around to it. Hopefully, this’ll be the end of the weird pop up ads!
Oh, snap. Debonair assassin. It is interesting to not that without the title this totally could be a little comedic with the man being a “killer” divorce lawyer. Of course his skeleton being that he’s a lawyer. Hehe
Oh! I love this alternative. Also, I often struggle to come up with titles 😄