Guest Post by George Davis


Peter waits for Janet to open the door. She does and step a side to allow him to pass her into the apartment. He notices a worried frown on her face.

“What’s up babe?” He asks.

“Sit down Peter I have something to tell you,” she says.

“Sure,” he says as he sits on a chair. “What’s the news?” He realizes she is not wearing her engagement ring. “Don’t tell me you let the ring go down the drain.”

“That is not it,” she says. She gets the ring from her trousers pocket.

“There it is,” he says happily. She holds it out for him to take.

“What’s this?”

“I’m giving you your ring back to you.”

“But, it’s yours.”

“Not any more.”

“What the hell is this?”

“I’m breaking our engagement.”

“You’re doing what?”

“I’m breaking our engagement.”

“What for?”

“I met someone and fell in love with him. It just happened.”

“I love you,” he shouts.

“He loves me better,” she says.

In a car rolling along a street, with his brother James driving, Peter stares at the scenery
in a disenchanted manner.

“Damn Peter, Janet gave you the ring back months ago; stop killing yourself with grief,”
James says.

“I had true love.”

“It wasn’t that truthful.”

“Go to hell.”

“It was better in engagement than in marriage getting the bad news.”

“The son-of-bitch broke up our marriage.”

“You two were never married remember.”

“I was closer than he was and he got her. He got her from me. The son-of-bitch took her
from me.”

“You should get over her because grieving rotten your insides and make you sick and
then kill you.”

“I’ll work it out.”

Peter walks into his apartment and gathers the mail off the floor. He flips through the envelopes and sees the one that is small and square. He opens it to read an invitation to Janet’s marriage to a man named Shawn Williams. He stands in a moment of shock and then rips the invitation and throws the pieces into the air. “Bastard,” he screams.

Two years pass. Peter and James sit in a bar, drinking beers.

“You need to look for a job,” James says.

“Nobody’s hiring,” Peter says.

“How long can you stay on welfare?”

“As long as they let me,” Peter snaps.

“Mom and Dad don’t like the way you become.”

“They’d get over it.”

“That invitation might have been a mistake.”

“The bastard meant to laugh at me.”

“Please get over it.”

“I might someday.”

“Will I have to knock it out of you?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

James drops a business card on the bar. “This guy is looking for guys with your experience. Please check him out.”


Nights later on his way home from a bar, Peter cannot walk a straight line and sometime stumbles, almost falling to the ground. An officer in a patrol car sees him and stops him. He calls for the wagon to house Peter overnight in the drunk tank. In the morning, Peter is released. The Desk Sergeant gives him a ticket for public drunkenness. He reads the arresting officer’s name, Shawn Williams. “Can I talk to the officer about this?” He asks the Desk Sergeant. “Yeah, sure, if he hasn’t already left, wait outside on the steps. If he is still here, I’ll tell him.”

Shawn Williams, in civilian clothes, stops in front of him. “I wrote the ticket. You want to talk to me?”

“Yes. I can’t pay the fine. I’m don’t have a job.”

“Not my problem, you can afford booze so it’s your predicament.”

“Aren’t you married to my old friend Janet?”

Shawn’s calm gaze becomes a devil’s glare.

“I was at your wedding; I knew Janet from school,” Peter says.

Shawn’s glare disappears. “Okay, but that will not get you off the hook,” he tells Peter and then strolls away.

The news broadcast gives the update of a suspect named Peter Washington who was shot and killed by police after shooting and killing police officer Shawn Williams while the officer was parked and filling out a report. Apparently, the suspect was disgruntled over a disorderly public drunkenness summon issued to him by the deceased officer. Tears stream onto Janet’s cheeks then drip onto her breasts as she listens to the news. END

George A. Davis born in Philadelphia PA (presently resides in Tampa FL): studied
creative writing at The Community College of Philadelphia, retired Federal government
employee, and presently write stories –


Posted on March 29, 2013, in Short Stories. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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