There is coldness in this world that defies the very depths of space
A fact that Derrick would be not so foolishly to dispute as Sarah bore though him with two cold blue orbs, the consuming void of their failed marriage leaching the very air from the stale environment they both clung to, called a home of sorts.
“How was your boss?” Derrick casually asked, a faint simmering spite hung on the end letter of each sneered word “must have been a lot to discuss tonight?”, Sarah choked the stalk of her wine glass as two cold blue orbs turned white hot “How is your slu.. secretary, dear” a smile as sinister as the way her words cut back “you only made it back a few minutes before me” muttered into her wine glass, Derrick either oblivious or choosing to ignore.
The clinical white of their remodelled kitchen was stained with the verbal venom of each sniping remarks, Derrick throwing back the coloured liquor in his thick glass “We had some business to undress, a few business frills to remove” ever so calmly refilling his glass “stripped the issues bare before discussing our merger, wife” Sarah’s burning glare met with his own smouldering hatred, shot laser style at the ice queen bitch.
Sarah slammed a kitchen knife with each threatening cut of some poor vegetable, an air of relish as she halved the food item with a single cleave “Me and my boss had some long hard reflections on a similar ‘negotiation’ we had to discuss” smiling for a pause “at length, husband” the wine glass snapping at the tightness of her grip as the descending half shattered on the tiled floor, Derrick flashing a dry smile “Careful wife, there’s already too many things broken in this house” vindictive too light a word to describe his unabashed sneer.
Sarah paused her massacring of the food item to purposely point the knife at her ‘loving’ husband, every tightness of her previously choking grip transferred seamlessly to the wielded blade “Nothing a few flowers can’t mend, going by your logic, dear” the blade leisurely redirected towards a fresh bouquet in the sink, red roses as crimson as the life blood of their union, which had bleed out a long time ago.
Derrick smoothly strolled in a direction around the room, a direction away from the pointed knife, Sarah agitatedly observing Derrick’s determinedly measured steps, until she was disturbingly aware of him standing directly behind her “Careful” Derrick speaking aggressively as his glassless hand stretched around her to guide the weapon back to its edible target “most crimes of passion happen in the kitchen, unlike our bedroom recently” Sarah visible shuddering as his gin soaked breathe caressed her ear.
Sarah turned affirmatively but with unthreatening speed to face her husband, pearched only a precariously few centre metres away as she looked up into his eyes, knife intently in hand “Those kind of ‘crimes’ occur in offices dear, ask your sexretary” a single tap on the top button of his shirt with the point of the knife “I could ask her, since last time you used the home phone to call her and it saved the number” a voice as light and airy as the storm clouds lingering in the room.
Derrick held a stony pose as his wife skilfully manipulated the tip of her blade to the skin of his neck, weakness and fear not a thing to be shown as with his glass he slyly, but ever so carefully, manoeuvred the knife away from his throat, before draining its contents “We can’t all be as clever as you dear” disdain dripping from every ill spoken word that slithered from his lips “we don’t all use burn phones to organise our indiscretions, dear” that final word as poisonously toned as the first time she had used it.
As the tension dangerously suffocated any suggestion of civility, two sets of eyes locked in a hateful exchange no words could compare to, the knife resetting its position on his throat as Sarah purred the words “I chose this kitchen because it is easy to clean dear, even blood” the least pressure applied with the sharpened tip as it ever so slightly twisted. Derrick’s fist clenching by his side, a hint of arousal as he felt the animalistic urge to teach his wife a thing or two about her ‘duties’, the subtlest changes to his twisting grin were notable.