"Oh, fuck! Fuck, fuck... Fuck!" You muttered in panic as rain pounded steadily across your windshield. The wipers couldn't move quick enough. In between sheets of blurring rain, you caught a glimpse of something quickly approaching in the distance. You jerk your wheel to one side, hard, thankful that you're the only one dumb enough to brave the storm on the road tonight. You stopped to see what your opponent was.
A squirrel. A fucking squirrel. Cute little grey thing, with a black tail.
Well, your wife would have rather you died than it, so maybe you should have turned a little harder; you were right next to a barrier, after all. Good for her that she already signed the divorce papers. At least she wouldn’t be made a widow.
A few more turns took you to your destination: a place that used to be home. Would she be here tonight? Probably not. Her and the new intern had hit it off pretty well--well enough for him to make her feel content with cheating, tearing down seven years of love and adoration, three of fights... It’s better this way anyways.
You... Had plans for tonight. Your birthday, the day she had proposed to you. She held it over your head a lot lately. What if you died tonight? Would she mention it at your funeral-- How “precious” of a “partner” she had been to propose to you first? Maybe so.
You took a seat on what used to be your bed, before you decided the couch was more comfortable. Pulling out your previously written note from the nightstand drawer was the second to last step, grabbing the pills, the rope... You’d dangle right above where you used to sleep so she could never roll to that side of the bed again. It almost made you laugh.
You literally moved across the country for her, goddamnit. Now she wants almost half of your check and you never even had kids together? She wants the house you designed, kept up, cleaned and decorated? She already took your last name and smeared dirt all across it. Fucking bitch.
Your knuckles turned white as they clenched tighter on the rope. Thunder boomed outside of your window and then something else... A small knock, almost like a constant tapping on your window. What the fuck? It was probably nothing, but figuring out would take too much time anyways. You stood up on the bed, not even bothering to remove your muddy shoes, and fastened the noose tightly onto the strange fixture on your high ceiling. It should hold, and if not... That’s why you have the pills.
Tap tap tap.
It was much quicker and louder now, almost desperate. You climbed off the bed to draw the blinds, throwing your hands down in frustration.
Wait.
It’s a fucking squirrel. Now that you’ve seen it, you can’t help but notice it looks strangely like the one you dodged on the commute home. It was banging its poor little palms against the glass, probably confused. Whatever brought you to open the window for a squirrel... Who knows. It probably just wanted to get out of the rain. Why would a squirrel care about the rain?
It crawled slowly past the threshold, looking up at you pitifully. It reached out its tiny little arms for you to notice a scar on one. Poor thing. Almost immediately after moving your hand towards it, it took hold, cooing as it climbed its way to your shoulder.
“Whoa, little guy, don’t get too comfortable now,” You half-chuckled. What an odd timing for a squirrel to be at your house, especially the same one you had almost made road kill. It reached the crook of your neck, and nuzzled in tightly, as if it had made your shoulder its home.
I guess I could stay a little longer. You took off your boots, and climbed very carefully to take down the rope. You wouldn’t be needing it tonight, at least. Maybe a cup of cocoa would serve better. You even decided to text your wife. Maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t too late. Maybe you had just forgotten how to look from a different perspective. You always hate your own art up close... Maybe it’s time to just step back and not out. Maybe... Maybe...
“Hi honey, I hope you come home tonight. I’d love to talk to you again, you know, how we used to. I didn’t realize my hours had been conflicting with yours so much. I didn’t realize that you had just been missing me. You weren’t cold. I had just forgotten all the warm coffee you still brewed for me in the morning. I had forgotten what it felt like to pull you against me in the middle of winter. We used to sit on the porch during a storm... Can we try it again? I made a new friend, I think you’ll really like them.”
