An Entry For FoxTales#15 Fiction Contest

DUMPED

Ken came home from work, tired and stressed. He comforted himself with thoughts of a warm shower, a home prepared meal, and the endless pleasure in the arms of his lover. Ken aimed at knocking on the front door, it was past 10pm and the love of his life should already be sleeping. Oddly, the door was opened and creaked when Ken first met it. Ken stepped into the living room. A strange smell greeted him. He took a quick look around. Everything seemed in place, except for a note on the table in the centre of the room. With trembling hands, Ken picked up the note and read it almost audibly.
"Dear Ken", the note started. "It is strange talking to you in this manner, but I see no other option. First, I want to assure you of my love. I wish things were different, at least we would still be together. I wish I could give you kids to hold and love. But we both know how impossible that is. I feel guilty for dragging you into this lonely path. I don't want to hurt you anymore. I most times wake up late in the night while your are watching those baby-and-daddy programes on TV. I feel like I've killed your dreams of seeing your posterity grow. Everyday, when your off to work, I'll take a walk to the pond by the park. The same pond people throw in golden coins after making a wish. I stand there, making a wish, losing a coin and hope, knowing how vain it is to live. I watch people look at me scornfully. Their dark eyes of racism tearing deeper than a dog bite. They look at me everyday, they smirk when we walk together in the park, holding hands. They hate us, but they hate me more. Most wishes I make, is that people would accept me for who I am, not for what I am. That people will stop hating me for no other reasons than how i hurt their conscience. I want to end it all. This morning, I went to the park, and I made a wish. It would probably be the last. I wished you'd never have to read this. I doubt it'll come true, none of the past wishes ever did. Take care of yourself Ken, live your dreams and be happy. I love you and will ever do, keep me save in your memory".
The letter was blood stained. Ken had no doubt who's blood it was. Right there, in the conner of the living room, lay a body. The body was sprawled out, with open arms and a slit wrist. The body lay in a pool of blood and had attained rigor mortis for the jaw was stiff. Ken was overcome with emotions, he took a pained glance at the body on the floor, petite, handsome, dead. Ken looked at the letter again. At the bottom, was written:-
with love
Desmond