Short Story/ Poem

Anthony was back from his trip to the store
His absence had brought more than he bargained for
In this balmy, fair-day weather
Would be the last time he and Claire were together
He brought the food to the second floor
And fumbled for keys to the apartment door
The lock, it turned and clicked, and soon
He was in the dark of his own living room
Ant was a reasoned, decent man
Like everyone, making it as best he can
They trusted each other, so it came as a shock
When he found out his own bedroom door was locked
He took out the key for the inside doors
You know, the one that little slot is for
The door opened silent, then he heard a yelp
But it was of pleasure, not one for help

They had lived together for a year or two
"Don't worry love, I'll take care of you."
Tony and Claire had been hurt before
But the trouble began when he opened the door

The first thing he noticed was where her leg lay
And that something so personal was now on display
His keys then dropped from his hands in surprise
When he saw not one pair, but two pairs of thighs

A "crime of passion", that's what it's called
The intruder, could he speak, would say he was mauled
And if his trip took just ten minutes more
It would've been fine when he opened the door

"You bitch! You cunt! You goddamned whore!"
These things he never would've called her before
He once fretted what he would do without her
And as the ice cream he bought melts on the counter
His vision is gone to the shade of bright red
And the last thing he sees: the intruder in bed
Up to that point it was all he remembered
That was in May from what's now mid-September
He passes a mall, a big TV display
A picture of him causes only dismay
A female reporter that looks kind of like Claire
Different lipstick, though, and the wrong color hair

"Anthony Jacobson, age 23
Still on the run from the authorities
Wanted for murder, a crime of passion
Killed his fiance executioner-fashion
Then turned to the other without a word
And carved him up like a Thanksgiving bird"
The TV continues as he begs for no more
A solemn wish that he hadn't opened the door