Untitled-Hilarree

Untitled by; Hillarree Hamblin, Oil and acrylic on canvas, 2010.

Excuse Me, Miss
by: Jewel King

“I think he followed my husband and me out of the movie. He must have seen my ring before he even approached me. I don’t even remember what he said; he just pulled out a knife and kept getting closer. I offered him my purse because I thought he would just leave me alone but he threatened to kill me if I didn’t give him my jewelry. I just really want my wedding ring back; his mom didn’t want him to give it to me in the first place. I just know she’ll find a way to blame this on me.” Officer Randall jotted down everything she said, even though it wasn’t much.

“Well what did he look like? Any identifying marks or tattoos? Hair color? Length?” he prodded.

“Umm, I think he had freckles, long hair, I mean long for a guy. It hit his ears. Dirty blondish. And he did have tattoos, a few. He had one of the sailor star things on his neck, the side. Also, a big tat around his arm, it was kind of like tribal designs, I guess.”

“His arm? Where on his arm, I thought he had on a jacket?” officer Randall interrupted.

“Oh, he did. I could see it, when he opened his jacket to show me the knife.” She said very unsurely. “Look, I’m very tired; I’ve had a long, hard day. This was supposed to be the perfect night, our anniversary. We got a babysitter and everything. We were supposed to be cuddling at home with a bottle of wine and strawberries by now, but instead I’m sitting on the curb getting questioned about being robbed. And those red and blue lights are even more annoying than the siren you used when you pulled up, by the way. Can I just go home and we’ll call if I remember anything else?”

“Yes, ma’am, that should be just fine. And once again, I’m sorry this happened, but we’ll do everything we can to find this guy.”

Later that night she thought about how much she had screwed things up this time. It was her anniversary, their anniversary. Well, it’s partially his fault, for leaving her to go get more butter on the popcorn. He always had to have more; he was never satisfied with what he got.  If he would never have left and got in that long line, she would have never had time to wink at someone else. She wouldn’t even have had the mind to look around. But that’s what people do when they’re left alone in crowded theaters; they look around to see who else is there. He looked like an ok guy, he had a sweet smile. Not the kind of smile that could be used in conjunction with a knife to rob someone. She wondered if she should call the police back and tell him the real story. About how the guy waited around for her husband to go get the car so he could get her number. And about how she gave it to him but flashed her ring and said to only call in the early afternoons because they were married and not just dating. The thing she wondered most about that night, though, was whether he would call.

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