broken bottles.

of Markus Spiske

The Giant is the closest supermarket to my apartment. I go there in the broad daylight together with the pensioned elders shopping for one unnecessary item to talk to the cashiers about their ongoing life gossips. I grab four bottles of wine before I swipe the rest, and they crash on the floor. The commotion surprises the customers, but their stun heightens as I run for the exit door.

Of course, the security alarm goes off. Someone, a civilian, pushes me on the ground, and we wait for the police.

The police pick me up and accompany me to the nearest police station. They tell me to wait inside this empty, gray room as they get their head officer to talk to me.

Then, I see her.

Since she’s the head officer, I can, at last, talk to her 13 months after the end of our engagement. I still don’t mind you cheated, I begin. She looks at me, still with her beautiful pair of hazel eyes, and I know she knows I fabricated the crime. I’m about to tell her how I still make her side of the bed when she scribbles something on the paper and tells me, without pity, that she’s going to do her job now.


Thank you for reading this story. If you want to talk about random things with me, do not hesitate to reach me through my “Contact” page. All the best love, my dear.


let me hold your words before you leave;

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