Love Ho

                Bob sat at the foot of his creaky motel bed. The springs groaned from his weight as he bent down to retrieve the briefcase underneath. It lay next to a hammer with brown stains. The thing itself was a heavy brown leather suitcase with a double lock. It looked old like it had seen so much but was still sturdy. He coughed at the dust that still remained on it. He dialed in both combinations. The date of his own birthday and his wife’s birthday. He took what he found inside.

                It was a yellowed document. She must have written it years before. The top read: “Last Will and Testament”. Carefully typed in. Bob choked back tears at the sight of it and grit his teeth. Hot tears trailed down his rough five o’clock shadow stubble down into his tobacco stained lips. He tasted the salt and remembered the taste of salted mist in the air as his feeble rage had just earlier splashed down with the honor of Cain. He needed a shower.

                Bob snapped the suitcase shut and slid it under the bed. He thought that if he had to hold on to that thing, at least he didn’t have to look at it.  Never once looking down or looking back. He walked up to the bathroom and flicked on the yellow light bulb that lit the grimy tiled interior. A man was looking at him. He was haggard. His hair, wet with sweat and rain lay on him lifelessly just as tired as he was. The eyes of the man were bloodshot as if he had just been weeping. Bob moved closer and so did the man. “I hate you”, said the man. Bob just looked at him. Probably agreeing with his reflection.