I saw the cottage from a short distance. It peaked out snugly from the surrounding trees and bushes, lively green shrubbery. Above the tree peaks coasted ghostly clouds upon a clean blue sky.

I walked up to the door, bravely and uncertainly. I knocked twice, and my heart raced out my chest.

You came to the door and opened it briskly.

“Adam!” you shouted, that vibrant joy in your voice.

“Em!” I responded in kind.

You were wearing a pretty peach sundress, with blotches of colourful bouquets decorating its creases. The unshrouded sun illuminated your vibrant smile. Your chestnut hair slept vividly in the breeze.

“Come inside,” you said, and I did.

You decorated the interior beautifully, but I knew you would. The tired wooden logs that made the walls were tiled by pictures and paintings: past and dreams—things that made us happy. There was a fireplace, cosy and resting. Two worn armchairs stood before it. Faint dashes of white cloth marked their surface where you scrubbed them. They were almost naked, but they were humbly covered in your love.

“Take a seat. I’ll make us some tea.”

Those were your words, and my shaky legs carried me to one of those armchairs. I collapsed into it—my back was straight, and I was formal. I watched the wooden walls, and let my thoughts dance all over them. My thoughts were invisible, and they haunted each glance.

You came with a cup of sweet tea, and handed it to me. I took it, and smiled. You smiled back, and sat in the other armchair. I watched you sit down, and took a sip of my tea.

“Adam, have I ever told you how much I loved you?” you asked.

I blushed, and said you hadn’t.

“The truth is I am completely and utterly in love with you.” That’s what you said. “I cannot imagine loving anyone or anything in this world more, than I love you. You make me feel a heaven that cannot be real anywhere else, but between us. That’s how much I love you, Adam. I want to be with you forever.”

I gulped the words down. They should have gotten stuck in my throat. They were tasteless. They went down without trouble.

“Em, I need to tell you something,” I said.

You turned to ears. 

“What do you want to tell me?”

I told you, that I didn’t want anything.

You looked at me with the disgust I deserved.

You walked to the fireplace. There was a fire poker standing by it. You took the poker, and swung it at me. 

You swung it at my chest, and it hit between my ribs. I felt nothing. The blood rushed out and spilled down my torso. I did not even feel its warmth. You swung, and struck again. And again, and again. And you kept swinging and striking me and I sat there, and I watched you. I watched your hatred spill all over me and I watched my blood spill all over my chest. 

My ribs fell apart, and there were my insides. You swung and you tore them apart. You did not stop. You wanted me torn apart and killed, and I agreed. You swung me apart, and I fell to pieces.

I died in that armchair. I think I’m still there.

16.VII.22