The email went as follows:
"Olivia. I am not your slut. Quit trying to trick me into chatting with you on the web. I know your games. And this time I'm not giving in to your tomfoolery!"
Tad hit 'send' and sat back in his chair. His fingers were already sore from all the hate mail he had responded to earlier that evening. It wasn't easy being a radio disc jockey with a lisp.
Suddenly, the door knocked. How could this happen, he wondered aloud. Doors are inanimate objects, they cannot possibly move on their own. Oh, but maybe it's trying to tell me something. Maybe a secret! About Olivia? Is she with child? Or could it just be another house ghost trying to get out of the wood?! Tad was curious.
Slowly, he made his way to the obnoxious front door - the door that held the universe in its four identical panels. The very same door that let Tad in and pushed him out each and everyday.
With one turn of the knob, Tad let the door show him what it hid. Right there, in front of his hush puppy eyes stood the very thing Tad most feared. The one thing he hoped not to find. The grave mistake he made years ago when he was just a 30-something with nowhere to go, no one to turn to and a bedroom in his parents' den. There, in the dim light of a hallway, it shocked him to the very core.
Without notice, Tad's landlord, Mrs. Moony approached the scene with obvious haste. She scanned Tad's placid face for any sign of explanation, any clue as to what thoughts raced beneath that shiny baldspot of his.
"Do you plan on moving this dead hooker or should I call maintenance?"
Mrs. Moony did not wait wait for a response. She stepped over the haggard body and slinked into the black of a dangerous hallway, leaving a befuddled yet surprisingly optimistic Tad in her wake.