Seeing that Michael was supposed to be home four hours ago there was only one conclusion that April could think of: the fucking bastard was cheating.
Just wait till he gets home she told herself. I’ll cut his cock right off, pin it to his shirt and make him wear it as a scarlet letter. Look everybody I fuck other people his cock would say.
April stood looking in the mirror wondering what this other person had that she didn’t. Still being twenty-five all her parts functioned in the ways that attracted. Standing there looking she started to pick at the small things that only she would notice by staring at herself.
She looked at the clock and thirty minutes had passed. Where is the shit? She asked herself. She goes into the kitchen, turns off the oven, removes the poultry dinner and heads upstairs to cry herself into a depressive sleep.
Michael’s eyes opened to smoke. Heat surrounded him along with a numbness in his legs. He tried to move but the task was futile for being tightly squeezed between what felt to him as a car seat and a steering wheel. Panic struck him and with it a need to be out of what he remembered as his car. Yes, he was driving and a bright light then the squealing of tire the smoke and the car careening towards a drainage ditch and the flipping of the car finally landing and everything going black. He touched his head and felt the stickiness of congealed blood then smelled the gas saw the flame and died in a fiery burst.