The man at the door

WORK IN PROGRESS…

You know, there was a bug in his ear. It was a sentence his wife had spoken a few minutes before. He was on the door. He had his new hat in his hand, his favorite trousers around his loins. He was ready to go outside and spend the night as he liked, but the bug was twisting in his ear.

It was the second time his wife had put a bug in his ear. The first time it happened months ago. She had dared to answer back. He had raised his hand up high to slap her in the face but then she had spoken with odd calm.

“Do it, but then don’t ever fall asleep again.”

He had paused looking her in the eye for a moment, just the time for someone to ring at their front door. He had quickly left the kitchen. When he had come back later that night, the house was dark and silent. In the bedroom, his wife was wrapped in the blankets. He had looked at the back of her head and he had raised his hand again.

“You know the price.”

“You are a fool, woman! How can you think you can beat me?”

“I don’t sleep more than four hours a day. I can do it while you are at work. But you, – she had turned towards him – you sleep soundly until the alarm goes off in the morning. Sometimes you sleep through the alarm ringing right in your ear and I must hake you for good to wake you up.”

“You’ll go to jail.”

“I am a woman. I am in jail already.”

He had distanced himself from their bed.

“But… but in jail, they’ll beat you up all the time!”

In the dark, he had seen his wife shrug her shoulders. That night, he had decided to not sleep and just surveil his wife from the little armchair in the corner. He had resisted some time, but in the morning she had woken him up with a hot cup of coffee and asked him if he wanted to call in sick for that day.

“No, better go. They’ll say I got the hangover.”

“Who cares? You didn’t sleep much last night. You could hurt yourself at the plant.”

He had looked at her through puffy eyelids. Then he had raised his hand asking for help to stand up from the chair and reach the bed, which had freshly changed sheets. He had fallen asleep immediately, too tired to worry. That morning bed linen had smelled soo good he could still remember it there on the door, with his hat in his hands.

“You don’t know what I do when you leave.”

He shrugged, put his hat on and left. But on his way to the the door and walked towards the living room. His wife had put some kind of oil in her long, curly hair and had just started twisting them into a braid. He moved towards her but then stopped and seated on an upholstered chair close to the door. He did not say a word and her neither. When her hair was done, she left the room and stayed away for a while. He asked himself if it was all there, a woman tending to her hair and some other minor beauty chores, and playing with his hat, was about to reach for the door. But some noises from the kitchen made his

THE MAN DOES NOT ENTER THE LIVING ROOM. HE WATCHES HIS WIFE THROUGH THE CLOSED WINDOW. WHEN SHE NOTICED HIM, SHE OPENS THE WINDOW A LITTLE AND TURNS BACK AT WHAT SHE’S DOING WITHOUT SHOWING TO HAVE NOTICED HIS PRESENCE THERE. THE THING GOES ON A LITTLE. THEN, THE MAN STARTS TO GO OUT THE FRONT DOOR AND ENTER FROM THE BACK DOOR, EVERY NIGHT AND DO STUFF WITH HER. THEN HE ACTES LIKE IF HE IS GOING AWAY BECAUSE THE HUSBAND IS GOING TO COME BACK, AND HE COMES BACK FROM THE FRONT DOOR.

THEN, ONE DAY THE HUSBAND PREPARES HIMSELF TO GO OUT. HE TELLS HER “I’M GOING TO BUY CIGARETTES” AND HE NEVER COMES BACK FROM THE FRONT DOOR.

ITEMS THAT MAKE THE HUSBAND:

  • THE HAT
  • A CERTAIN JACKET
  • THE POCKET WATCH???

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