My dear arsonist, my own exfiancé, had slipped out that he was happy to see all my stuff go. He thought I didn't know, but who are we kidding. It was fair revenge - he felt like I had cheated him, and so he let my paintings, objets d'art and favourite tchotchkes burn in a fire, although I know he was really after the rushes the lover and I had made.

What he would not know is that
I had set him up for this. I know his passive-aggressive self well enough to know his reactions to things. But he should've known me well enough by then to know how I'd like to see my failed works and works that remind me of my failures, go to flames.

Plus, I paid a premium on insurance for that studio, and the payout was good. It's a win-win situation for us. But in retrospect I feel guilty how I've gotten cash that could've been used to help compensate those suffering truer tragedies. I'm embarrassed just thinking of it now,



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