Erlene picked up the last twenty-dollar bill. She walked to the trash can to throw away a tissue and saw the wedding photo facing up through the broken glass.

Ephram looked young in the picture. He was wearing a suit that didn't fit right, but his eyes were locked on her. He looked like he was the luckiest man in the world.

She remembered that day. He had bought her a ring. It wasn't big. The diamond was barely visible. But he had worked two jobs for six months to buy it.

She touched her left ring finger. It was bare. She had taken the ring off weeks ago and thrown it in the junk drawer.

The doorbell rang.

Erlene shoved the photo deeper into the trash. She smoothed her hair and opened the door.

Andrew stood there holding a takeout bag from a Thai restaurant. "I figured you hadn't eaten. I got your favorite."

He walked in like he owned the place.

"Thanks, babe," Erlene said, trying to push away the memory of the photo.

Andrew looked around. "The loser is gone?"

"Yeah. Just left. Signed everything."

Andrew walked to the table and picked up the papers. He whistled. "Clean break. No assets. Smart man."

He opened the junk drawer, pretending to look for a fork. He rummaged around until his fingers closed over the small velvet box.

He pulled out the ring. He held it up to the light, squinting. "God, look at this thing. It's microscopic. How did you wear this embarrassment for three years?"

Erlene blushed. "We didn't have money."

Andrew tossed the ring in the air and caught it. "Throw it out. It's trash. It doesn't suit a woman of your class."

Erlene hesitated. "Okay. Throw it out."

Andrew smiled. He didn't throw it in the trash. He slipped it into his pocket. Even a cheap diamond was worth a hundred bucks at the pawn shop down the street.

"Tomorrow, we go shopping," Andrew said. "A real ring. A Hanson ring."

"Really?" Erlene's eyes widened.

"Of course." Andrew kissed her forehead. "My wife deserves the best."

Erlene smiled, the doubt vanishing.

Outside, in the dark parking lot, Ephram sat in his car. He watched the silhouette of the two figures in the lighted window of his old apartment.

He saw them embrace.

He didn't feel angry anymore. He felt detached. Like he was watching a movie about someone else's life.

He started the car. The Honda rattled.

He reached over to the passenger seat. He picked up the black glasses. He looked at them for a moment, then tossed them onto the dashboard.

He put the car in gear. He drove out of the complex, turning right, away from the city center, toward the hills. Toward the iron gates of the George Estate.

Ephram pulled into the 7-Eleven on the corner of 5th and Main. He needed water. His throat was parched.

He walked out with a bottle of water, the cool plastic sweating in his hand.

A car pulled up next to his Honda. It was Erlene's red Porsche.

The window rolled down. Mrs. Wilson was in the passenger seat. Erlene and Andrew were in the front. They were laughing.

They stopped laughing when they saw him.

"Well, well," Mrs. Wilson cackled. She leaned out the window. "If it isn't the ex-husband! Living the high life at 7-Eleven?"

Ephram unscrewed the cap and took a slow drink. He stared straight ahead.

Andrew opened his door and got out. He walked over to Ephram, blocking his path to the car.

"Still hanging around?" Andrew smirked. "You got nowhere to sleep, buddy?"

Erlene stayed in the car, watching. She looked uncomfortable, but she didn't look away.

Andrew pulled his wallet out. He took out three twenty-dollar bills. He stuffed them into the front pocket of Ephram's hoodie.

"Go get a motel room," Andrew said loud enough for the people pumping gas to hear. "My treat. Consider it payment for keeping my seat warm for three years."

Mrs. Wilson laughed, a harsh, grating sound.

Ephram looked down at the money sticking out of his pocket. He looked up at Andrew.

He smiled. It wasn't a nice smile. It was the smile of a wolf looking at a rabbit.

Slowly, Ephram pulled the bills out. He held them up.

Riiip.

He tore the bills in half. Then in quarters. He let the pieces fall like confetti onto Andrew's polished Italian leather shoes.

Andrew's face went purple. "You crazy bastard! That's sixty dollars!"

Ephram stepped closer. He leaned in until his lips were inches from Andrew's ear.

"Save your money," Ephram whispered. "You're going to need it for the lawyers."

He shoved past Andrew, his shoulder checking him hard enough to make Andrew stumble.

"You're pathetic!" Mrs. Wilson screamed from the car. "You're just jealous!"

Ephram got into his Honda. He looked at them in the rearview mirror. Three people celebrating a victory that wasn't real.

He picked up the black glasses from the dashboard. He rolled down the window.

He threw the glasses out onto the wet asphalt.

A delivery truck roared past. The tires crushed the glasses, grinding the plastic and glass into dust.

Ephram touched his face. He felt exposed. He felt dangerous.

He floored the gas pedal. The Honda lurched forward, leaving the convenience store-and his old life-behind in a cloud of exhaust.