flash fiction writing

I was sitting quietly alone at the bar, when who should walk in but
Jack Sommers. Why here, it was bad enough that he was fucking my
wife, did he have to destroy the sanctity of by afternoon drink as well?

I watched as the bastard placed his order with the bar-tender.
What was so special about him? Why did my wife choose to share our
bed with him? I have known this creep since high school and thought
that once graduation was over I would never see him again. I was
wrong. We went to the same university and now work for the same company.
None of this bugged me, not until I came home from an overseas
business trip to find him fucking my wife in my bedroom. The depraved
pair didn’t even bother to draw the curtains. I could here the bitch
screaming like a pig being butchered. I have been quiet too long.
Today I have my say.

I finished my fourth brandy and walk over to Jack.
“Hey Jackie boy, fancy seeing you here?”
He looks at me, and smiles awkwardly, like a trppaed animal.
“What’s wrong, nothing to say?” I ask as I loom over him.
“Hey Pete, sorry man but how much have you had to drink?”
“Aw how nice of you to be concerned Jackie boy.” I pat his cheeck and
stare drunkenly into his eyes.
He pushes me back, and gets of his seat.
“Come on Peter, I’m taking you home.” he pays for his drink and takes
places his hand on my shoulder.

“Home, to my house? Oh yes you know the way quiet well. By the way
Jackie, how is my wife? You enjoy fucking her?” the room went silent
at this outburst as everyface turned to view the scene. I put my
finger to my lips to hush the noise.

“Peter you are drunk and don’t know what you are saying. Just let me
take you home and you rest for a while..”

“Don’t fucking patronise.” with that I swung my arm wide and punched
him in the face.

Jack doubled back, wiped the blood from his nose and then charged at
me. His broad shoulder hammering into my stomach.
It was not long before we were kicked out of the bar by a couple of
big guys.

We beat each other up quite badly. somehow I got home where my slut of
a wife played the role of a devoted wife and cleaned me up.

The next morning the doorbell rang, I rose from bed put on a t-shirt
and went down stairs to see who it was.

My wife looked terrified, at first I thought she was affraid of the
police presence but when I looked in her eyes I realised the she was
affraid of me. I had become a monster to her.

“Mr Samuels, Mr Sommers was discovered dead this morning. We believe
that you were the last person to have seen him alive. We need you to
come to the station with us for some questioning.”

Fuck, I hit him but murder?

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