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Trash Day

I knew I shouldn't have done it. Mom always told me, "Don't be nosy son; if it's not yours, leave it alone." However, there was the temptation, on the shelf between the corn chips and pretzels, one of those yellow stick-it notes about the size of an index card. I gazed up and down the aisle to make sure nobody was watching and casually picked it up.

The drawing on the backside of the note captured my attention. Someone with some real artistic talent sketched a pretty lady's face, with one lone tear running down her cheek. I should have returned the note to the shelf and walked way; instead, I turned it over and read a shopping list.

In bold, hand-printed block letters, centered perfectly on each line, I read the words that still haunt me to this day.

LOAF OF RYE BREAD
CARROTS
KILL ROBIN
BEER
GROUND CHUCK
KILL ROBIN
PRETZELS
KILL ROBIN TODAY!

I read the list one more time, turned it over, and looked at the sketch again. Fighting the impulse to wad it up and toss it in the nearest wastebasket, I folded the note and shoved it into my shirt pocket - out of sight, but not out of mind. Trying to remember what I came to the store to buy, I pushed the basket to the next aisle, wishing I had made a shopping list of my own. Skimming over the items I gathered in the cart, I recalled that I needed milk. At the last aisle, I grabbed a carton of 2% and hurried to the checkout register, hoping I had all that my wife sent me to purchase.

In the parking lot, I loaded the two bags of groceries and hopped into my car, accidentally banging the door against the pickup truck parked next to me. Nobody noticed, so I proceeded out of the parking lot. I pulled out onto Grimes Boulevard into a long line of traffic and waited for the light to turn green.

At the red light, I removed the note from my pocket and reread it, turned it over, and looked at the sketch. Reaching into the console, I found my cell phone, scrolled to the directory, found Bill's number, and pushed the send button; but I canceled the call before it went through.

What was I going to say to him if he answered? "Hey Bill, I just wanted to know if you are still seeing Robin? I found this shopping list at Winkler's Market and wondered if you may be planning on killing her today?"

I lectured myself for picking the note up. Maybe it wasn't Bill who wrote the note. I hoped I was right, but my heart told me a different story. Geez, why didn't I just leave the note alone? All the signs pointed to what I prayed would not

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