"This is how I find out?!" I'm so enraged I'm shaking all over. We meet in a back alley. I have tufts of her hair as evidence, found in his bed. They are black and silky. Mine are reddish brown and wavy. "How long?! How did you meet? My God, in my house?" She's not answering me, just picking at her nails.
Someone from the restaurant opens the back door to throw garbage away. This startles her and she runs from me. Coward! "Ha, I hope your kittens have six toes just like their freak father. I hope you get run over by a truck!"
I'm heartbroken, sick, sad, but still want to find out what's in the garbage.