Four of Wands

Our Rooming House—DAY

Back from the road.

The door is open. I knock on the jamb of the apartment. But there is no answer, and the door swings farther open. I enter, surprised to find, not my Flophouse hideaway, but his familiar old apartment with its bed, books and laundry.

Missing only one thing: Andrea. My Ultimate Boon.

I come home to find maintenance has been in my apartment for some reason. The work order left just says “WE DIDN’T LOOK AT YOUR ELECTRICITY.”

I call into emptiness for her, “Andrea? Andrea?”

Then say to myself. “It is surprisingly empty, for Andrea, that is. Her stuff is still here, but a lot’s missing. Is she away? Keeping up rent on the place?”

I look around at her stuff longingly, then proceed to the bathroom where I at least spy Andrea’s dirty clothes left in the bathroom. I picking up the articles and begin to fold them.

It is mostly rote. I used to do the laundry for her when she was sick and I was lonely. I sadly sift through the pile of clothes. I take a pair of panties and gingerly put them to my face, nose. The front door can be heard opening. I am alarmed.

“Andrea? Andrea?” I gulp, “Spike?!”

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