She was unsure if it had really happened as everything else seemed normal. The birds still sang, the wind blew, and the cars passed her winsome cabin, which still stood in the same place it always did and always would. And her husband still snored.
Or wait, that was wrong.
His distinct, persistent snores were now replaced with a piercing silence. Typically, she would be in the kitchen, pan in one hand, spatula in the other, while cooking three strips of turkey bacon and two eggs over easy. Or cleaning her husband’s bottles of Budweiser beers and their stains left from the night before. Or, she would cover her bruises with her splotchy foundation, also left from the night before. Instead, she was in their bedroom, hands encasing her mouth. Not allowing a sound through. And there laid her husband, or what was her husband, now simply a human dummy made of flesh and bones an-
But then she noticed the warm, sappy, garnet-colored liquid on her hands and the knife on the floor… but she knew what occurred as she watched it happen.