Scott Greene was a man of vast wealth, and also of vast anger and sadness. His wealth he inherited from his late father, or rather, the company that his founded, a leading manufacturer of contact lenses. His anger and sadness he inherited from his wife, Mary, or rather, an argument that they had. Mary had found a brazer not belong to her, all black-laced and in measurements suited for a slimmer, not doubt, younger woman. In the past several weeks leading up to the find, Mary had a great suspension of Scott's jilted ways, and now after cleaning under the bed, Mary had finally found tangible proof of her husband's paramour. The fight ensued the movement Scott came from his daily grind. With a livid Mary holding up Scott's lover's garment in a fist clenched so tightly it turned reddish and throbbed. The underwear was displayed like evidence like a courtroom. How Scott wished for a lawyeresque individual who would lie for him and talk his way of all this. But, alas, feeling unlucky and alone, like a Magpie, Scott just wanted to fly away from all of this, or swim, or dig and crawl away through the dirt. Scott just stood there in the high-ceilinged mansion hallway as Mary, his once lover, screamed awful and ugly things at him. Scott had stopped listening, instead wondering how long she could keep up screaming until she felt that red piercing pain in her throat and could not stand to scream any longer. However curious, Scott was adamant to find out, instead opting to leave and go anywhere that wasn't where he was right then.

Scott yelled, depressed by his own voice, that he was going for a drive. Coldly, Mary called him spineless, the worst thing she could think of. She waited for Scott to leave, then started to cry alone in the near-empty house. Scott, still dress in fine gray suit from work, walked briskly past his horses in the stable to his garage, and into his favorite car, the Rolls Royce, Phantom. Nothing but the finest. Scott turned the ignition on and turned the radio up to try and clear his aching head.

Scott drove to an all-night diner just out of the town. After what seemed like mere seconds, Scott was there. As he opened the diner door, a bell chimed. Looking around with that eyes that darted around the room left-to-right as if watching a tennis game, Scott found that his only company was the staff and a few large truck drivers who stared and made Scott feel out of place. He sat away from them, at the other end of the place. A young, dark-haired waitress came to take his order. "What'll be, sweetie?" she queried, "Coffee, black" Scott answered, looking her in the eyes. He thought her eyes very pretty, yet having a little gloom in them too. Scott got a quick look at the name-tag draped on her breast before she walked away; It read Jane. Scott watched her walk away, her slender splendor and eyeing her legs and lower thighs poking out of her seductively short work skirt. Scott flirted with the notions of flirting with her. After all, what was left to lose?

He thought to himself. But after opening his wallet to pay for the coffee, the little photo-both snapshot of Mary he kept inside his wallet make him think twice. On the reappearance of the radiant waitress, she asked Scott if that would be all he wanted. "Yeah, I'm good for everything else" Scott said. As the waitress walked away, Scott stared at the spoon on his saucer. Its contoured reflection showed his face silvery, upside-down and all stretched out and bent. Scott then looked at the design on the wall next to him. The pattern was of hula dancing girls playing red ukuleles. Scott's mind rushed back to his and Mary's Hawaiian honeymoon, years ago. How the honeymoon was truly over. Scott began to drink his coffee, it was pleasant. Scott picked up a salt shaker from the tabletop. He swerved it in his hand and looked at the salt inside, overlapping on top of itself. Suddenly, Scott felt so small and valueless, and that he belonged inside the shaker, buried underneath the salt, away from everything, he thought is surely easier than everything. Scott finished his cup and thought it time to return home.

Scott excited the tragic diner, got into his car, and drove home. While driving through the driveway, he noticed the bedroom lights still on. He thought Mary must only be going to bed just now. Scott would wait a few moments before entering and then go to sleep in the guest bedroom. Mary was a heavy sleeper. In the meantime, Scott parked the car and then walked to the stables to visit his favorite horse, April, who a colossal Clydesdale with a glossy brown coat with a snow-white mane. Scott went into the stall, he slowly began to brush her mane. He knew there was no point in talking to her, but did so, just feeling good getting the words out. Scott told the great animal his worries, fears, and hopes. After a while, Scott started to feel his eyes heavy, and thoughts of going to bed seemed satisfying. In a sleepy stumble, he reached out and suddenly touched the horse, saying fondly "Goodnight, April". Then everything went to black. Early the next morning, Mary found Scott on the stable floor, his skull in several pieces from April's startled kick.

She wept.