Art of Dying

11

1975

GEORGE'S POV

I get home from a long day at the studio.
Pattie, my wife, is not home. Of course she isn't.

Tiredly i make my way up the stairs and rummage through a drawer with some old stuff in it.

"There you are." I whisper.

I grab a little box out of the drawer. Before opening it, i take a large sip of the bottle of whiskey in my hand.

I open the box, revealing the picture inside.

"You were so beautiful." I say with a lump in my throat.

I grab the picture and hold it in my hand.

"You were so beautiful and so sweet and everything i could have ever wanted. I miss you so fucking much Maddie."

A tear falls down my cheek.

"Why did you have to leave me Maddie? Why did you leave me all alone!?!" I yell, throwing the bottle of whiskey at the wall.

I make my way over to my bed and lay down on it.
I keep looking at Maddie's beautiful picture until i roll over onto my side, ready to fall asleep.

However, something catches my eye.

A piece of paper is sticking out of the nightstand. Pattie's nightstand to be precise.

I try to open the drawer, but it's locked. Not understanding why, i decide to pull the paper out anyways.

It's a letter. A letter from my friend Eric Clapton to my wife.

I hastily read the letter.

"Fuck!" I scream, scrunching the piece of paper up.

I had some suspicions that she was having an affair, i just never knew it was with my own best friend.

I take one last glance at Maddie's picture and then stuff it into my backpocket.

I'm not gonna sit here and take it.

First, my one true love gets taken away from me. Then i marry the girl who i thought could make me feel happy again. My marriage turns out to be a fail, my band breaks up and now this.

Fuck her and fuck him too.

I run downstairs and scan through the booklet of phonenumbers.

Eric Clapton.

I know that he's away, allegedly with some old friends. But by now i know that by old friends, he means Pattie.

Eric might not be home, but his new wife is...

I dial the number and wait impatiently.

"Hello?" A soft feminine voice asks.

She's home.

I hang up the phone and get ready to pay Mrs. Clapton an unexpected visit.