All Day, All Day
He has every right to be angry. He draws back his arm. Tired. Exhausted. Frustrated. Stressed. Bitter jealousy. He's ready to punch. He has a sneer on his lips. He has fire in his eyes. Is it time for a showdown? Is this a test or what? Suddenly he wants to yell. Why me? Why me? He throws the punch. He lets out a painful howl, as his fist comes in contact with the solid door. His unhealed bones break again. He cradles his injured hand. The door is now firmly shut. The man on the other side must be laughing now. That Mocha Latte hand never left the door. And in his anger, he never even noticed. "Shit. Shit. Shit." He starts cursing. His voice sounds weak. His hand is killing him.
"He loves me." She whispers into the mirror, refusing to use past tense. He's still alive. Within her heart. He smiles when she smiles. He weeps when she cries. He breathes when she breathes. He will love her. Always. She's going to sit down by his grave and sing him a song. A song they both love. Then she will come home. Make dinner. Eat in silence with her mother-in-law. Waiting for Joe to call. Watch a little TV. And maybe tonight, she will dream of him.
The moment he slammed the door shut, he almost laughed out loud. He never thought he would come home to this. Stephanie doesn't remember everything. Her eyes look younger. He's still an opportunist. He has tracked down the man who tried to kill her. No one is going to miss the missing man. No one cares if Vinnie loses the bail money. No questions will be asked if the body was buried deep. What is he going to do with Stephanie? He leans against the bedroom door as she peeks out from under the blanket.
"Did you kill him?"
He holds her eyes. He recalls the day they first met. Ah, the things we did for love.
Poor, poor Mr. Joe Morelli.