She Died

They were fighting. They didn’t even know what they were fighting about anymore. Someone said something and then another person said another thing. They kept going at it, constantly cursing each other out like the high winds and hail that had been falling all day.

Snow tapped on their windows in their lonely house on a lonely street on the outskirts of London. It seemed to fall harder as they ripped each other apart with the gravity of their words. Soon she picked up a flower vase and threw it at him. He dodged, and it hit the mirror behind him, shattering it into bits. “I hope you die, you piece of shit!” she shouted at him . “You’re gonna die !” he yelled back, “and every single negative word you used on me, I give it right back to you in a thousand folds!” he continued.

She wore her coat and stormed out of the house fuming. She left the door ajar. The angel of death walked into their home and made Itself comfortable.

He sat at the table where they had been trying to have dinner. Their meal had barely been touched. Wine glasses were still full and the candle light swayed from left to right as if confused. “How did a quiet moment turn into a storm?” he pondered

Outside in the cold, she felt nothing. The heat of her rage kept her warm. She took inventory of their lives together and surprisingly felt appreciative. She loved him. She would go back home…