Cheater

Bang, bang, BANG!

The rapping on the front door brings me to consciousness steadfast. Each strike more furious than the last.

BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG.

I heard you the first time. Hastily, I put on a pair of pants for my unexpected company. What time was it? Nine AM? Eight? The sun streaming through the bedroom curtains provided it was at least morning. It's a struggle to focus on anything else with this incessant banging, groggily tiptoeing to the front door to meet my visitor. Normally, a solicitor this early in the morning would warrant a sock to the face, but the power of each knuckle against the door, made the situation seem more urgent than it might've been.

As I push the handle down, I'm reminded of what transpired last night. A combination of events I have yet to pin as simple circumstance. What could get any weirder than that, I narrowly thought. The front door swings open, and I'm met with a very red-faced individual, boiling with rage.

"YOU FUCKED MY WIFE!"

Oh dear.

"YOU LYING SACK OF SHIT, YOU AND MY WIFE - FUCKED!" He spits at you with vitriol.

His gestures are animated, but he's not throwing any punches - yet. All I can think about is the running motif of taking advantage of taken women, and this man - for now - appears immune to my powers.