Scott woke up alone in his king-sized bed. Fighting to control the hangover that was splitting his head apart, he tried to remember what went down the night before.
He was pretty sure that Kathy was with him when he went to bed. There had been a lot of drinking and shouting and maybe even a slap or two. Open handed, of course. He never would have struck her with a closed first. No matter how much of a bitch she was being.
But he couldn’t remember the specifics, the details. How much had he had to drink? What were they fighting about? Did he really hit her? And where was she now?
He got up, walked into the kitchen, swallowed four Advil tablets, and started brewing a pot of coffee. He began to remember bits and pieces from the night before. And that’s when the lyrics to that Joni Mitchell song began haunting him.
Listening late last night
I heard the screen door slam
And a big yellow taxi
Took my girl away
Now, don’t it always seem to go
That you don’t know what you’ve got
Til it’s gone
They paved paradise
And put up a parking lot
Written for this week’s Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practioner from Roger Shipp. Photo credit: Kai Pilger pexels-photo-462867 Taxi.