I looked at his body. Two years I had invested my time, effort, energy, and emotion in him. I had let my walls down, I had built up new walls to keep us safe; he was my everything. I protected him, cherished him, he was my best friend, confidant. But as I looked as his large frame on the floor, now lifeless, I felt… content. I smiled to myself and straightened out my apron. I patted myself on the back for doing the deed without a drop of blood spilt on my clothes. This was my favorite apron, pink with laced pockets. I stepped over the body feeling some elation that even in heels I could step over a rotund man without tripping. Fifteen minutes until guests would arrive and still he refused to change out of his sweat pants and hoodie; one less thing I had to worry about I supposed. I looked around the room to make sure it was perfect. Candles burning on the coffee table, apple cinnamon; my favorite scent it reminded me of Christmas. My wall hangings perfectly straight and the future newly polished with a hint of lemon zest. I smiled as I pulled my curls behind my ear. Everything was perfect and then… I looked down. What to do with him? My dinner party would surely notice a body in the center of the room. I looked to the hall closet. I could lean him up against the ironing board and spray some febreeze. Ironic the same ironing board I used to iron so many of his pants… did I ever get a thank you? No. I took his pudgy hands in mine and drug him out of the living room and into the hall. My perfectly manicured nails strained against his large frame as I hauled him off the floor and threw him into the closet. He began to slip as I leaned him against the ironing board. I shoved him back up. Finally he stayed. I looked at his blue face and the bruises that began to form around his neck. The same shape as the pearls I played with in my pocket. I was just glad I finally got his eyes to close… even though they were dark and blue and slightly bugged out. I shrugged my shoulders as I shut the closet door. I walked away and heard his body fall completely. My dinner party went off without a hitch. We drank wine and talked politics. We ate chocolate mousse until we all heard a bang from the hall. I stood up from the table and reassured my guests to sit and relax. Before I made it around the table the rotund man I had thrown in the closet earlier fell into the dining room.
“Nate,” I gasped throwing my hand up to the pearls that I now dawned on my neck.
He gasped and sputtered on the floor finally hauling himself up to his feet. “Did you try to kill me?” he shouted between gasps.
I looked around at my dinner party and back at him before I responded. “You wouldn’t do the dishes.”
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