Home Alone

After work tonight I drove straight home. Jennifer isn’t here. I figure she’s out with another guy right now on a date or something. Probably one of her coworkers at the coffee shop. It’s none of my business and I know I shouldn’t care anymore because she’s not my girlfriend, but the situation is really fucking with my head. When I walked in the front door I noticed both the fishtank’s lights were out but the livingroom light was on. Since it’s already two in the morning I’m certain she won’t be coming home tonight.

I think Jennifer has been digging around in my room. I don’t know what she might have been snooping in here for. I noticed some of the boxes I have packed up were shifted on the floor and their contents jumbled somewhat. My box of videotapes was rifled through for sure. I’m too tired to go through it and take an inventory to figure out what might be missing. Doesn’t matter, I suppose. In a way I deserve it. When Nikki was still living here with Jennifer she had a friend pass through the area and leave some of his things in her care. Among the junk her pal left behind was his entire vinyl record collection. Records are sacred to me, I’ve been collecting obscure ones for years. I never allow my collection of records out of my sight and I wouldn’t dare leave them in someone else’s care no matter how much I trusted them. One day when Nikki was out of the house Jennifer kept watch on the front yard like an early warning sentry while I picked through this person’s record collection. I swiped a half dozen records, some were rare. I knew what I was doing amounted to total vinyl taboo, but I did it anyway. Right now I feel like a dirtbag for that.

If Jennifer steals some of my things out of petty revenge, I guess I earned it.

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~ by factorypeasant on July 7, 2005.

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