I tossed a copy of 50 Shades of Grey into the garbage. I wasn’t attempting to make any kind of big statement.
The girlfriend didn’t want it anymore. Fair enough. Just one more piece of trash to throw out during a snowy day cleaning.
It did feel a little good. Putting something where it belongs.
I could have kept it, crammed it into the bookshelf between books it wasn’t fit to touch. But no, I tossed it out defiantly, with whirlwind terminal force, and a smile on my face.
Maybe it was a statement then; made to nobody but me, the disinfectant spray, a dirty rag, and the Tom Waits album on the stereo.