Someone has been reading my short stories or so it appears.
An article was posted in the Facebook news feeds and I had to go and check it out. The story does sound a bit farfetched but hey, I suggested this in my short story that I wrote years ago, Bed Bug Ridden.[1]
Apparently, some woman decided to burn down her house because of a bad infestation of bed bugs. I wrote Bed Bug Ridden back around 2010 as a short story and you can read it in my Time Pieces Collection which has stories that are funny, simple, short and sweet with a touch of some suspense. There are 13 stories in this collection.
It might be just a note, but I wonder why it was so important to her. Maybe this could be the beginnings of a future romance. Hmmm….
The denim fabric of a jeans (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
She swallowed hard before washing down the fried egg she was eating. “You have the note with you? I wrote a list on the back of it. I need it back. I have to go to the store to pick up more dog bones.” Kendra checked her black T-shirt, hoping she didn’t drop any of her breakfast on her shirt or blue jeans. Her brown hair hung just above her eyes. She’d need another hair cut in about a week when it would start poking her in the eyes once again.
“I threw it out,” Randy explained. “I didn’t think it was important. Why would you write your shopping list on the back? People use post-it notes for that.” He’d driven all the way from Plattsburgh to listen to her complaint about a stupid note. Maybe he should get on with it and break up with her. Their relationship wasn’t ever going to go anywhere anyway. Who was he kidding? All she cared about was her dogs. They always seemed to come first in her life.
“You threw it out?” Kendra dove for the trash bucket. She needed that note, not just the list. That note had the password to her account. That’s the last thing she needed a trash picker to get their hands on. What the hell was he thinking? Throw the thing away – gad.
Before Randy could stop her, she had the entire contents on the floor. Nowhere was there a note to be found. “Kendra, listen to me. You’re nuts. Look at you. The note isn’t there.”
“You said you threw it away.”
“I did. But it’s gone.”
“It can’t be. I just saw it this morning.”
“Oh, that note. It’s here.” He held up a little brown paper bag, out of her reach. “Tell me you love me.”
“Randy, give that to me now!”
“Nope, not until you tell me you love me.” He continued to dangle the bag above her head, out of arms reach.
“Randy! I got to have that note!”
“Fine!” He tossed the bag across the room, away from her. “That’s it, we’re done. Don’t bother calling me.” Randy pocketed his car keys from the table, snatched up his jacket from the back of the chair, and let the screen door slam behind him.
Kendra sat on the floor holding the note she pulled from the bag. The slam of the screen door, bringing her to her senses. It was too late. Randy had already driven away.
Linda Nelson 
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