21
Monday came and went. Beverly checked her phone no less than 200 times, checking the connection, the batteries, and the ring volume. Sam didn’t call, leave a message or even text so much as a “hey”. She drove home to her tiny dumpy rooms confused, disillusioned and generally pissed off. She slammed the door of her car shut, wrangling her purse, computer and crutches.
“I am disavowing men!” She shouted to no one, as usual. She stopped at the door and pulled her mail out of the tin box at the entry, jamming the envelopes in her mouth. Once in, she spit them on the table. She stripped herself of her baggage and clothing, started her bath water and poured a glass of wine. She would sooth her wounded soul with water and wine. She glanced at the bills on the table, one envelope stood o
