Alimony, Acrimony
Tiffany didn’t deserve any more money- has not he the true build of a cuckold?
- stopping of its own accord
- rolled about in uncouth positions
- I don’t know the solar systems, but
Alimony, acrimony. Can’t be coincidental those words are so alike.
I’m going to call my lawyer first thing Monday and get it knocked way back, maybe back to zero. Tiffany didn’t deserve any more money, especially not any more of mine. If she was buying pornographic orreries then she had clearly run out of legitimate expenses.
Yet, I’m captivated by the clockwork prurience on her nightstand. I wound it when I came in, and watched as the “planets” rolled about in uncouth positions. The mechanism ran down, stopping of its own accord, and I’m staring a while longer. Venus in particular holds my attention, appropriately enough.
I know I should be leaving Tiffany alone, but she started it. She said to her new lover, Antoine, “Has not he the true build of a cuckold?” If she’s going to make those kinds of comments, then she should send them via an email account I don’t know the password for. It’s like she’s rubbing my face in it. Antoine doesn’t have the foggiest idea what a cuckold is, and Tiff knows that.
I snap a picture of the orrery and send it to my new lover, Adrienne. I’ll show it to my lawyer in person, keeping the evidence of my break-in from bloodying his electronic hands. Adrienne already knows I’m here. She’s waiting in the car. Her reply is characteristically earthy.
“I don’t know the solar systems, but it looks like something interesting is happening to Uranus.”