You were beautiful next to me, and I was always confused whilst you were there. Your smile lit up the room and outshone me completely, and I just bathed in the glory of that beautiful light. And every time you smiled, you smiled at me.

We wed quickly: perhaps too quickly. My ring was on your finger within four months of our first meeting. But I was besotted; utterly captivated every time I looked at the visage of your face, framed with white-blonde angelic hair, so that in the sun a halo of light reflected about your head, and my, did I worship you.

Within weeks, the light seemed to have gone from your face. Already your eyes had dulled, and looked at me with wistful contempt.

Then you would disappear; whole nights gone. I would wait up as long as I could, with a glass of wine and a book, holding a futile hope that you wouldn’t come home drunk, but you always did. And then you wouldn’t come back at all and I would awake in the chair I slept in.

From the carcass of our romance, a green goblin is spawned.