He trudged along the narrow streets of the old quarter, dragging the battered old trolley bag behind him. One last trip. He’d chosen this part of town as it had been where they’d first met. Happy days. If only he could turn the clock back. If only he hadn’t found out about her infidelity. Life was one long ‘if only’. What was done, was done. No going back now. Time to tidy up and move on. The bin area behind these boutique shops would be the ideal dumping ground for the last bits of her dismembered body. She’d loved shopping.
A 100-word story for Friday Fictioneers