Peanuts

Translation Notice

This article is a work of fiction originally written in Italian. It has been automatically translated to English using an AI tool. The rhythmic and narrative qualities may differ from the original.

Original title: I was spitting peanuts in that pub because I know you're cheating on me.

It was the dull thud of the front door slamming that made Beatrice turn around sharply. She was calmly getting dressed, the shower water was still running, with that unmistakable intermittence of a body passing through the stream. Burglars? She hastily put on her red stilettos and, with some courage, poked her head out of the bedroom door, just enough to glimpse the entrance.

Everything seemed in order. Her coat; her purse; the vases; her husband's laptop bag; the shoes... Her husband's laptop bag? Shit. Her husband was supposed to still be at the office, his bag with him.

She ran to the window. She would have recognized that figure among thousands. Her husband was walking away quickly, dejected, kicking anything in his path.

"Get out"... "NOW!"

That was all she said, grabbing the keys on the fly and throwing herself down the stairs.

She roamed the neighborhood for hours, looked in every alley and corner, buzzed the intercom at nearby acquaintances. There was no way to find him.

Returning home she passed a bar, stopped and took three steps back. A dive, a place where her husband would never set foot. Yet her husband was there. He was taking something from a bowl and putting it in his mouth. A couple of times he spat into the napkin, then started chewing, grabbing handfuls of... shit, handfuls of peanuts. Beatrice's hand went to her purse, but she realized she didn't have it with her. She remembered the entrance. Her coat; her purse; ... the adrenaline.

Art by: vectorpouch / Freepik