window cleaning Edmonton He now found himself walking around the town aimlessly, as often he would, stopping at a few guesthouses, having a beer here and there a glass of red wine, ate a ham sandwich at one disco bar, listened to a Neil Diamond's song, one he became found of, 'Cracklin' Rosie,' he had heard it before, it wasn't all that new, but it was circulating throughout Germany, and popular, it made him happy, sad, and drifty in a nice kind of way, Cracklin' Rosie was his bottle of beer, or wine his lover for the night, the girl he could have, because the one at home was the one he never did have, or would have.
The exchange was a reasonable one he thought, as reasonable as he'd get.Then he up and left the bar, told himself it was time to go back home, he told himself he'd have to make sure the gun was empty when he got home, he couldn't sleep another night thinking she might be as dangerous as she says she feels.He walked though the apartment door, "Good Evening," he told his wife, the main room was dimly lit, and he was lightly drunk.He was very careful not to disrupt her mood.
"Go back out and get drunker," she told him, "come back when I'm sleeping, I'm going back to St. Paul, Minnesota tomorrow.
"He looked at her, she was curled up in a corner of the leather couch, with a cigarette in her hand, and he noticed three burn holes in the coach.
"Look at what you're doing, I'll have to pay for the whole coach now (it was a furnished apartment).
"Sherwood reached up high on the bookcase, took his 45-automatic down, pulled the clip of bullets out.