Discarding the imperfect
Denise was leaving for work, just as the garbage truck stopped outside her flat, and a young female garbage collector, dressed in bright green uniform, dragged the green garbage container to the back of the truck and locked it into place. She watched the bin lift and tip, and the trash tipping into the back. As she was about to wheel the bin back, she noticed, half-buried in the pile of stinking garbage, the body of a male, sealed tight in black tape and shiny black plastic trash bags. As Denise was locking her front door, the woman looked across and grinned and then called over. ‘Good morning, Miss. I am assuming this one of yours?’ She pointed at the back of the truck. Denise walked over. ‘Yeah. That was the guy you saw me with a couple of weeks ago.’ ‘You mean the guy with the cream colored Porsche?’ ‘Yeah, that one. Granted he was wealthy but he said he was allergic to my cats and he was lousy in bed, so he had to go. Did I did wrap him up p