Melanie walked home from the salon. She was tired from being on her feet all day, and starving, very much in need of some carbs. Pasta, bread, potatoes, rice – they all sounded pretty damn good. Though she knew she ought to cut that stuff out if she was going to lose a few pounds before summer, like she’d planned, it was hard to live on rabbit food.
The cold evening made her even hungrier.
She’d started the day well, with fruit and yoghurt for breakfast. Then at lunchtime, she’d given in and had a grilled pork sandwich at the Argentinian café.
At that point, it seemed to her like a little dessert wasn’t going to make much difference, so she’d added a few alfajores to her cappuccino order. Delicious little cookies with a creamy caramel-like filling.
And now? There hardly seemed much point being virtuous. She might as well have a pizza and begin the diet tomorrow. As she neared home, Melanie smiled, glad that the issue had been resolved.
She thought about what she should post to her social media. Pictures of her and Kate? A poem to honour her friend? She could ask the others tonight, at the book club meeting, though she would have liked to stay home and read.
Or better yet, get Tom to look at the cool apartment she’d found on the north side of the city. She’d also found a unit that used to be a restaurant, but it could easily be refitted to a hair salon.
Melanie turned into her driveway and walked up the strip of concrete between Tom’s car and the grass. She put her hand in her pocket to get her keys, but they snagged on a loose thread inside the pocket.
Melanie had been meaning to do something about that thread forever, but she always forgot. She gave the keys a tug, felt the thread snap. The keys went flying through the air, landing somewhere in the grass.
“Damn it.”
She stepped onto the lawn, squinting as she tried to find any sign of her keys. She couldn’t see a thing. She took another step, bent over and peered at the ground.
Tom was already home, so, if she had to, she could just knock on the door, and he could let her in. She was about to do just that when she saw something a couple of paces away.
She recognised the shape of the small rectangle of plastic. It was her loyalty card for the supermarket, which she kept on her keyring. Whatever angle it was at, the card caught the reflection of a street light down the road.
Melanie went over and scooped up the keys. Her hands sank into something wet. The keys were slimy in her hands.
Bringing her hand closer to her face, she caught the smell.
Melanie gagged as she realised that the keys, her hand and the sleeve of her jacket were all smeared with shit.
Baxter’s shit.