It is chilly for May. Sheebah cat precedes me through the door. I suppose I could check my Facebook status. I haven't even thought of social media in months. A notification. From Greta. She wants to connect with me. I am going to decline. I suppose she wants to nag me about her dear little brother. And an email from my ex.
"I just got a text from Sven who is now in police custody. You are going to have to answer for this, you know."
My response:
Please do not bore me with idle threats, Greta. I happened to be asleep on the couch at the time, and so neither I nor anyone else that I happen to know has had anything to do with your blonde Nordic studly landing in the slammer here. I imagine he should be already on his way back to Sweden where he is going to face the music. Do not contact me again
Send.
And this, you know, happens to be the first time I have ever openly stood up to my terrifying ex wife. It feels rather good.
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