It was as if someone had slapped Harriet across the face. A series of events had finally led to this miserable end. There she sat staring into nothingness. She was frozen, her eyes were foggy, dull, pensive. Her lips cracked and pursed. Her chin kissed her chest. The left arm of her polka dotted silk blouse was torn off and had deposited itself on her wrist. A wrist now burdened with a suitcase filled with clad spilling out of its seams. The right side of her pencil black skirt was ripped with thread sprawled all over, she was barefoot.

Her legs had little streams of blood oozing out of fresh scratches. The wind blew violently, but Harriet held her almost demented military pose in the middle of the street. She had nowhere to go. She didn’t even know what to think.

“…may you get hit by a truck and go to hell!” were the last words before she was violently thrown out of her marital home. Harriet was completely dumbfounded by the turn of events.

Eva ‘the witch’ diva was introduced to her just a year ago at her husband’s office party. She was a new young and ambitious intern. There was nothing much to read about her, she was the usual young, attractive and ambitious young graduate. What more was there to care for? Harriet was never a busy body and thought very little of sexually transmitted jobs (STJs). What Harriet was completely unaware of was her husband’s sinister STJ operation that got her catching a case of gonorrhea. Her naivety left her aloof to the possibility that she caught it from ‘loyal’ Bernard.

Eva had become quite a frequent one at her house occasionally staying up late with ‘loyal’ Bernard working on projects from her house till the wee hours of the morning. It was innocent, purely work initially. Then the work shifted to Eva now accompanying Bernard to office luncheons and dinners. Harriet was simply dismissed on the grounds that there would be a lot of industry jargon. ‘You won’t understand what’s going on, and anyway you can always spend more time with the girls.” Bernard would nudge.

Harriet was relieved at first to be freed from the boring corporate play-pretence-keeping-up-appearances party; she was more of an introvert. But as she stood there in that icy cold morning, bleeding physically and emotionally, assaulted, taunted and disrespected Harriet had only one thing in mind.


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