Furious, she ripped herself away from my embrace. “Don’t fucking touch me,” she screamed with a venom that could have bored holes in the dust-covered kitchen tile beneath her would it have fallen from her mouth rather than been spit into my face with inhuman force. She stepped away hastily, nearly tripping herself on the half-built shelving unit that lay in pieces on the floor.
Here we stood, a newly-unionized couple enjoying the first weekend of togetherness. We stared at one another for a moment in silence, her venomous ire dripping down my face in the form of sweat and a stray tear. Her anger began to engulf her: her face turned as red as the pits of Hell, her eyes burned with the fire of a thousand suns, and she clenched her fists around the house’s best wrench, no longer screwing dainty screws into untreated wood, as though it were my very throat.
We stood at odds with one another across that pine-felled battlefield; wood chips and scattered debris punctuated the scene, signifying the great war that had taken place.
As the dust settled, I caught her eye. Not a moment passed before her mouth went from ajar to fully open, giving way to an erupting, streaming spew of ceaseless and deafening noise. The spring sun beamed into the room as though it was the hellish rays of God’s own punishing eyes burning into my back at the beckon call of her demonic roar. The pine boards across the battlefield glimmered in the soon-summer light.
Time stood still as she mouthed her discontent for my eyes to behold. Each word thrust from her mouth like an epee, carefully and precisely piercing my soul further and further with each strike. My soul fell as blood to the floor as it seeped from the unseen wounds, seemingly staining the wood as an everlasting reminder of my crimes against humanity.
So began the ballet: she twirled about the kitchen, deftly dancing around the modern marvel of unfinished furniture, as she sung the song that would end the world in the name of deriding my very being. And when she was finished, nothing remained but the completed shelving unit which stood in all its miraculous beauty anew.
All the devil asked for its creation was an unwilling man’s corpse.
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