She’s not sure why she’s done this.
Because she could? That convenient mantra inspires most of her transgressions, a glib response that unnerves even the most detached interrogator.
She presses her face into the pillow, inhaling his man-smell, and slides her legs across the cold side of the bed.
Does she wish she hadn’t? Possibly. But only because then there’d still be a treat in store, a prospect to cherish.
She lifts the pillow. Stares down, remembering the good times.
He won’t be hard to replace, she’s sure of that.
Difficult to remove though; maybe a shorter guy next time.
My second murder story in four days – my husband is giving me sidelong glances. I suspect this prompt probably depicts a multi-coloured grasshopper, but I saw a Preying Mantis – that’s the mood I’m in. After a couple of forays enjoying the luxury of 150 words and 200 words, I’m dipping into the stricter 100 word regime of Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers. And it’s tough!