PetuniaChapter 12
Harold came back to his old apartment frustrated and pissed off. He looked around at the dump he had left his wife in and he couldn't believe how he had managed to survive all those months living like this. Or how that bitch who called herself Mrs. Wilson could call this 'home.' The place was a fucking disaster. A squalid, vermin-infested sty. They had laughed at him today. At Suzie's Whorehouse, out on Route 117. When he was living here, he'd been going there every fucking Wednesday...