Everything was flawlessly structured.
Branded attire suspended in color-aligned rows.
Her dressing table was obscured in costly dermal care items and cosmetics that probably cost more than my initial vehicular purchase.
“Time to pack a punch.”
I commenced packing every extravagant object.
Every branded pouch.
Every fragment of ornamentation.
Her preferred fragrances.
Her silk nightwear.
Her assembly of facial covers that pledged to “reverse chronology” but visibly were unable to reverse faulty choices.
I even packed her thermal lash curler.
Who applies heat to their eyelashes?
Affluent individuals who do not execute their own youth care, evidently.
I folded everything meticulously because disarray impacts more intensely when it is structured.
When all four travel containers were populated, I secured them with combination digits only I recognized.
Subsequently, I transported them down the stairs one by one and aligned them in the reception area like combatants awaiting evaluation.
I started packing every luxury item.
I snatched a fragment of parchment and inscribed: “To reclaim your treasures, report to Karma.”
I even illustrated a minor grinning visage.
I am vindictive, but I am civil regarding it.
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