Act III

I saw the man in the black uniform trying to put his glasses on at an angle…trying once, twice and finally on the third try he gets it right and his spectacles or glasses as the Americans call it, were rightly positioned over top of where the bridge of his nose. His nose arched and rose up from his face, with huge nostrils you’d imagine could smell even the slightest whiff.

He thought of what his wife may have cooked for dinner or whether they would have take away like the night before. He hated eating out. He felt it was better his wife murdered him than have him eat all that  saturated and hydrogenated fat…He wondered whether he would die of a heart attack like his father and his grandfather before him…Why is she not concerned for my health he wondered? Does she hate me so much to desire my death? She’s lazy…the spawn of the devil – sloth.

He was lazy too. He had gotten too comfortable in the Play de Les miserables that his life had become. She promised him a lot when they first got together – she would bear his children, cook, clean do everything for him…She had big dreams for him, dreams for their beautiful family – luxury, comfort and travels to far and exotic places.He never could make those dreams come true and soon a curtain of gloom dropped on their life…Act II, Scene Apathy.

He got home and his wife was ordering takeaway…again.

“Do you have change for the tip?” his wife asked. Her tone nonchalant.

“Sure,” he said.

He went in to freshen up until the delivery guy came in.