Online

She tells me in no uncertain
terms, that this time it's really over.
She's already packed her bags,
her cat is in a travel cage, licking
water from a small bowl.
I've just come home from work
and she's holding a stack of papers
in her hand, printouts, e-mails,
from Sheila, the woman i've been
having an affair with for over a year.
I tell her that it's over, we're done,
Sheila and I are ancient history.
She points to an e-mail and then
another, each one dated yesterday.
The time is even on them.
Fucking computers.
Okay, I say. Okay. You win. You win.
I have an addiction, I tell her, I need
help, counseling, maybe I need to
check myself into one of those thirty
day clinics and straighten myself out.
One of those twelve step programs
might be good for me. This is when
she swings her suitcase and hits
me in the head, it glances
across my chin causing a gash. The
blood is suddenly everywhere.
Jesus, I tell her. Look at me. Do you
have any idea what this shirt cost?
There's blood all over it. She swings
it again, but I duck. Maybe Sheila
can buy you another one. That bitch.
She throws the stack of e-mails at me
and picks up her cat in the cage. I'm
leaving. My lawyer will be in touch.
Don't worry, I have copies. I have
every key stroke you ever typed.
This is just the beginning, you bastard.
You're going down. The door slams
and I find a towel to wipe up the mess.
I grab some ice for my chin and a cold
beer from the fridge, then I go to
the computer to log on, to see what Shelia's
up to. I can see that she is online, but
who the hell is she talking to?