Reading A Diary


By spilledwords

Sitting on a wooden shelf emblazoned “1994”; while at housekeeping she flips its dusty pages with moving lips yet inaudible she reads to her fill.

“Is that me – fat and shrew?”

“No, no,” he assured her.

“Then who is it?”

“It’s my Ex”

“And who’s this low-life slut you always meet at a street corner and have a romp with in the back of your Toyota SUV?”

“Oh, that’s the mother of my children”

“Don’t you remember how we got together?”

Curiosity has a nasty way of exposing pretensions. When you read someone else’s secret you get what you deserve.

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