Blood oozed out of his mouth, his face was fixed in confusion. His coffee cup came tumbling down smashed. The liquid pooled on the floor.
“Sarah…” George said through the blood. He fell to his knees on the kitchen floor. Sarah knelt with him. She took his hands.
“I’m so sorry,” She said, tears suddenly falling from her pretty eyes, “I didn’t know that it would do this to you. I’m so sorry, my love. She said that you were in love with someone else. She said… she said… this would make you love me again. What have I done?”
-
Dressed in black, Sarah stood at George’s fresh grave. She tore off her cardigan, exposing her arms to the warmth of the sun on this opposite of warm day. She looked down at the cut beginning to scab over on her palm.
-
“Good morning, honey,” Sarah said to George as he walked into the kitchen, still in his flannel pajamas. She filled the cup with coffee and looked at him over her shoulder before she cut the paring knife into the flesh of her palm to drain the blood into the cup.