His garbage was filled with junk food wrappers and empty cartons of mint chip. The neon green kind.
“Big surprise,” I mumbled.
But that’s not what brought me out to this damp, disgusting alley. I was after something valuable. Payroll stubs to be exact.
My ex was careless. He’d toss them away without regard for his privacy or security. So it didn’t take long to find one. A recent one too.
It was exactly what I needed. And just enough proof for the courts.
If he tried to weasel of spousal support again, I’d staple this right to his forehead.
The Weekday One Hundred 