She never expected this: flesh giving away to a knife.
What she really didn’t expect was that knife to be held by her husband.
(A few minutes later, a complementary thought walked unbidden to her mind: I guess he got his pound of flesh.)
Who would have thought that there were thoughts of murder marinating in his office room.
Hatred came whistling through in the shape of a knife thrust.
Gone were the days when he used to tilt his heart in her direction.
He used to say: I can be polite or compassionate or I can tell you the truth. But the truth is neither.
That was a truffle of truth she failed to bite.
Dutiful as ever, she obeyed his command to bleed to death.
As she turned her eyes to the night sky so she could be spared his face, she thought she saw a star winking in the dark as she bled her last.
But what it really was were two angels around a campfire looking down from the heavens at her.
Just two angels enjoying the warmth of a fire in a cold sky with no inkling of a desire to help.