Doris was a sourpuss. That’s what her husband said as he was walking out the door that last time rushing to his new girlfriend waiting in his classic fluorescent orange 1969 Camaro. Let her have his sorry geriatric ass, Doris thought. What did that twenty-two year old see in him anyway? The paunch, the balding hairline masqueraded by a comb-over, fooling no one. He was pathetic and Doris was glad to be rid of him. All she wanted was his money. But he got the better lawyer and kept it all. Doris pawned her diamond ring and got a tattoo.
Arlyn West lives in Colorado and makes her living as a computer programmer. She writes in her spare time when she's not riding horses.