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Her Day In Court
A bag of bones can mean many different things to many different people. But an actual bag filled with actual body parts isn’t the sort of thing one would expect to find in their closet while looking for a pair of pumps on the morning before a day in court.
Maybe one day I would be able to appreciate the irony of a skeleton in my closet. Or maybe in the future I would be just a bit more careful about whom I date.
But truthfully, I knew whose remains were in that bag. It wasn’t supposed happen like this, why was it there anyway? And the smell, who knew my ex-husband could smell worse dead than he did alive? My wardrobe was officially ruined
I looked back to the bed at the covered mass in the bed, only mop of black hair and a tattooed arm sticks out from the sheets. At first I thought it was romantic, Kevin’s wanting to ‘take care’ of Peter for me.
Now that it’s done, I’m sure I would eventually be grateful, but at that point I had to shake off a trembling fit. I’m due in court in an hour to begin divorce proceedings with a mutilated corpse that is in a duffle bag in my closet. I never saw that on an episode of Sex in The City.
“Kevin” I shook my husband’s murderer while fastening my earrings. He slowly came to life. I tried to comprehend how he could dismember a body yesterday and then sleep like a baby. Once again I questioned my taste in men.
“What is that doing in my closet?”
“I’ll take care of it, it got crazy last night.”
That was an understatement.
In no mood for breakfast, I grabbed a coffee and head for the courtroom. It has been a long and bitter separation, and I felt no remorse whatsoever about Peter’s fate. That bastard got what he had coming. However, I would rather it not be sitting in my closet on top of my favorite Betsy Johnson shoes.
One thing was for certain, he wiould be a no show in court, which won’t gain him any favors with the judge. When he skips the proceedings all together, it will seem as if he has jumped town entirely, not a far fetch for someone of his character. Meanwhile, my name will remain squeaky clean, clear of accusations of infidelity or whatever else may come into play.
Arriving at the court, I quickly went over tthe preliminary steps with my lawyer before heading into the courtroom. As I sat down, I looked over to the bench only to see a ghost. There, looking clean cut and well dressed, was Peter, complete with that same smug look on his face I have come to hate over the last two years.
Seeing the horror on my face, my council nudged me and asked if I was okay. I was not, because I was wondering just exactly who is in that duffle bag in my closet...