REVENGE FANTASY

By Lores Denison

She takes three deep breaths to steady herself and goes over the mental checklist again.

She has:

the gloves,

the razor blades,

the note,

the doctored tequila bottle on the shelf,

the undoctored bottle in the closet by her feet.

She breathes and listens.

(He had left the note on her stoop with a rose: “Forgive me.”)

She hears his steps on the landing, his key in the lock.

(It’s not too late to turn back now. As soon as he falls asleep,

she could leave.)

But no.

“Forgive me” is a demand, not an apology.

Well, who’s sorry now?

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