End Flashback

Pettiness, meanness, trivial actions made in spite of somebody…
They can lead the way to a domino effect that nobody can control.
Later, that night…

Flashback – Shane

“Do you want me to call around to find an open drugstore?”, Jenny asks me quietly, as I rub my forehead trying hard to figure out how I am gonna sleep tonight, without pills and with this fucking headache.
“I’ll find one”, I mumble, grabbing my coat and heading to the front door.
Jenny’s little steps follow me close behind.
“Should I come with you?”.
I shrug.
“It’s up to you”.
I grab the car keys and rapidly pace the lawn, towards the half-open garage.
Jenny smiles, opening the car door and sitting on the passenger seat.
“These are my favorite kind of cars”, she observes, sheepishly.
“It’s a Morgan”, I reply distractedly, turning on the engine.
She just nods her head.
“Of course”.
I glance at the rearview mirror and push the gas pedal, backing up.
“It’s cosy”, Jenny is saying as the tyres pass over something with a bump.
I push the footbrake, narrowing my eyes.
“What was that?”.
Jenny takes a look outside the window.
“A bump of some sort”, she murmurs, clueless, and we get out the car at the same time.
Jenny stops, her pale face turns towards me in the faint light of the tail lamp.
“Oh my God, Mrs. Shane!”, she whispers, mouth agape.
“What?”. I ask, with no particular intonation in my voice.
“You just passed over Mrs. Carmen’s cool-boxes!”, she answers, depressed and worried, “She worked all day to prepare those appetizers… Oh my God, look at Mrs. Carmen’s cakes!”.
I arch my eyebrow observing the mess of cream and fruits under my wheels.
“Fuck…”, I mutter, “Hand me the hose, Jenny, look at my poor Morgan! It’s all smudged with that fucking shit!”.
Silently, Jenny unrolls the hose and hands it to me.
“Turn it on”, I order, “Let me clean this mess… And… Look, why don’t you go into the house and find a large Ziploc bag?”.
Jenny just stares at me, nervously biting her lips.

End Flashback

And the second tile of our infamous domino had fallen.
The third one was, of course, already on its way because, next morning, Carmen woke up at the phone ring. At six o’clock.
The delivery guy telling her that there were no fucking cool-boxes waiting for him.
See? See how easily things start getting worse and worse?
Only degrees of losing.