Return Policy

Poured gin in my coffee 10 minutes ago. Sour. The amount of times I’ve sat in my kitchen with a good idea fits on one hand. The amount of times. Amount of times. TIMES. Court is in 20 minutes. I’ve forgotten again. 

 

7 voice mails and 10 missed calls later:

Pinning glares from her end of the court. Next to her attorney, she looks awfully sophisticated. I sign the divorce certificate like I would a receipt. Just making a return, like the sweaters I picked out. She said they were itchy. 

I expect the judge to ask if I’d like store credit or just cash. “I have a list of other women with credentials similar to your ex-spouse”, he would say. I’d ask for cash because I don’t plan on returning.

But he doesn’t ask that and she’s wearing a sweater.

In a minute, Paul