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" He said out loud. He looked around. The problem was he wasstanding in Ron's room, full of Ron's things. He knew what he had to do.He went into his drawer and pulled out a pair of scissors. He began goingthrough all his drawers. First he cut up all Ron's underwear, then hissocks, next came his pants and shirts, lastly he cut up all his ties."There. No more briefs, only panties, no more pants ever, only skirts anddresses, and definitely no more flats." He said. He planned on replacingall his old clothes with his wife's in the spare room. He gathered allhis tattered clothes and male shoes and put them in a trash bag. Hewalked out to his car now armed with a purse which contained all his cash,credit card, and ID. He put the trash bag in his trunk and drove to adumpster across town. He dumped the bag and everything that representedRon and all his maleness into the dumpster. He got back in his car anddrove to a sex shop he had passed on his way there. He walked in past. Asking me if I’d ever get laid again, ever get my dick sucked again.The sound of an extended blast on a car horn snapped me back to my senses. Red lights moved away from me in the direction I’d been travelling.I got up and walked back around to the still open car door. I reached into my back pocket, then realised the phone wasn’t there. I panicked, trying to think what I’d lost. All the photos and videos I took were automatically backed up to the internet cloud. Ditto for my call log and text messages. The music files on there came from my laptop. Anything else wasn’t important. As I sat in the car, I realised I’d have to find a Vodafone shop and tell them what happened. Or maybe I’d tell them the phone was stolen.Then I was back on the road, only much slower this time. Much slower. I didn’t know this road. I didn’t know where it would take me. I just knew it was away. Away from my so-called friends. Away from the so-called life that I’d carved for myself.I turned off the stereo—it.
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