“I keep thinking if this is us; if you’re waiting for me to open that front door. What it would feel if I’m the one you’ll embrace; the one you’ll kiss. I just keep thinking…”
“You have to stop. It ended long ago.” The fast kiss of the knife against the wooden chopping board—torturing the dead onions.
“I could’ve been the one you married, but I chose to live in Italy for years to study. I could’ve had this house with you…”
He threw the sharp knife against the ceramic tiles. It was a quiet evening, after the last disturbing sound. She was fidgeting with her hands and there were tears in her eyes. He was furious with his thoughts—of the time, of the last road, and of the sold treasure.
The front door opened and a beautiful lady descended. “I’m home, honey…”
They all stood frozen.
WORD COUNT: 149
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