[€uroMeinke]

It wasn’t a week past Rey’s birthday when she told him she was in love with someone else. Of course it didn’t surprise him, things had been strange for awhile and now it all made sense, the longer hours at the office, the delays and excuses about picking up groceries on the way home. She probably strained to find the right moment to make this confession, and now with his birthday over, the last occasion had passed and she was left with no more excuses.
“It’s not that I don’t love you anymore it’s just that…”
“…you’ve fallen in love with someone else”
“Well, yes – I have. It’s not like I wanted it to happen. It just did.”
“But what about us?”
“Hun, I don’t know – but it can’t stay the same.”
“Well, you don’t have to act on it, you say you still love me, we can get counseling or something?”
“It’s too late for that.”
“Too Late? How can it be too late, you just told me – besides, what about Jacks wife?”
“He left her last week – Honestly we never wanted to hurt either of you – but, I have to look after myself now – and you need to do the same.”
“Were you suffering so much with me? You seemed pretty happy up until now”
“I was, but I was missing something – something I didn’t even realize wasn’t there until I met Jack. He makes me feel alive. Do you really want me here with you out of duty? I can’t do that to you.”

She left that night. Rey was surprised he never noticed that most of her clothes had already been packed and taken away, not that he ever spent much time in her closets. Later he bought himself a large bottle of bourbon and proceeded to finish it off. He was not ready to cry, or rage, rather he sat out in a patio puffing on a cigar left over from somebody’s bachelor party. He hated smoking, but took long deep puffs on this stale cigar, rinsing his mouth with more whiskey as he just asked himself why.

Weeks past, with days and nights spent in identical despair. The trash he took out was mostly empty liquor bottles and fast food wrappers. A month later after another late night of lonely drinking. He had a dream.

Rey dreamt he was being attacked by crows in some sort of cross between Alfred Hitchcock’s the Birds and Prometheus. Each crow would peck off a little bite of his flesh, an act more annoying than painful. He fought them off at first, and then just resigned himself to his eventual devouring.

It was then one of the crows stopped and sat next to him, cocked its head and looked him in the eye. The crow spoke, “You know, it doesn’t have to be this way.”
“What do you care, you and your friends will soon have me picked to the bone.”
“Me and my friends? – May I remind you that this is your dream.”
“Well then stop already – You’ve made your point.

Suddenly the other crows stopped their pecking and took flight vanishing into the peripheral fog of the dream.

“Who the heck are you anyway?”
The Crow let out a sigh that bristled his feathers for an instant
“You know, you only took a couple psychology classes in college and that puts us both at a disadvantage. So let me put it to you this way, in a sense I’m you – or rather your crow-like nature that perpetually picks away at your flesh leaving you a well-cleaned skeleton”
“Does this mean I’m schizophrenic?”
“Look, let me try again – your wife isn’t the only one who’s grown bored with you, you bore me too – that is to say, you bore yourself – and honestly, we the inhabitants of your subconscious are kind of tired wallowing around in your self pity – But heck, this is your life, your dream, so if you want to be chased by a murder of crows who eat out your liver every night, well that’s fine too. But admit it you’re done here aren’t you?”