Thanks to Alistair for providing the prompt for Sunday Photo Fiction. If you’d like to join in, click here.
What’s Your Poison?
I thought it dear that Anthony would bring me cups of almond tea in the morning before leaving for work. So solicitous. He’d kiss me on the cheek, “Bye, Sweetie.”
“Sweetie,” I thought. He loves me so much. How lucky I am.
Then I accidentally found the life insurance policy.
Did you know that arsenic poisoning results in white lines across your fingernails? It’s called Mees’ lines. I didn’t until my manicurist gasped. Arlene watches all of the cop and forensic shows.
“You’re being poisoned,” she said between chews of her spearmint gum.
I laughed, then didn’t. There was the life insurance policy.
“Not to worry,” she said, patting my hand, her thick New Jersey accent elongating vowels. “My brother’s a cop.”
That’s how I sat in a maroon convertible with a broad-shouldered detective watching my husband pursue carnal knowledge with a woman half his age. My jaw fell as a man rode up on his Harley, hit my husband with one fist, and then stole away the woman.
My cell phone rang moments later. “Honey, dearest, you’re never going to believe what’s happened to me…”
Wanna make a bet? I hear Sing Sing’s pretty this time of year.