Princess Pink – The Color of Despair
Its kind of funny that pink would be her undoing, but it was. Princess Pink lipstick on his collar; the shirt itself smelled of a fruity perfume and strong drink. She knew he had been acting different, he barely even noticed their anniversary a month ago.
She convulsed, her body feeling tight and hard. She threw herself against the washer to keep from falling. Tear glistened on the metal as they fell unabashed from her eyes. Mickey Mouse was having an affair. A cry was rising out of her; she threw her head back and left it out. Her chest heaved as she sobbed.
This can't be happening! Seventy-six years wasted! My life, my freedom wasted! And for what, to be treated like his subordinate. I helped make him what he is!
Her mind was screaming her heart breaking, her hands ripping the shirt in two. She threw it on the floor and stormed determinedly to their bedroom.
From under the bed she grabbed her suitcase and quickly began to shove any and all of her clothes she could find. Snapping the lid shut she hurried to the door, no telling when he'd be back and she couldn't face him now even if she tried. She whistled lightly and a little black cat came bounding up to her. "Come on Figaro, we're going home."
She hadn't been here in a long time, her little pink cottage. She always had someone come out to clean it whether it needed it or not, and this was why. She could never win in fights with Mickey, not after Walt's death. So she just packed up and went home for a few days to cool off and let him see how much he really needed her.
"First things first," she set down her suit case and Figaro, went to the kitchen and made herself an extra large hot chocolate and grabbed the phone.