Open Door

I’m just sitting here. Nothing extravagant. I’m not really sure what I’m doing. I think I’m drunk?

I hear the door of my house opening, but I don’t care. Is it because I don’t trust myself, or really because I don’t care? I don’t know. I’m lost.

I feel a pinch on my right side. I turn my head. She’s there, right next to me. She has a smile on her face, but this is an angry smile. I still feel the pinch, and some blood is dropping along my neck.

I pull out the knife, and the wall is now beautifully decorated.

I feel tired. I think I’m falling out of the chair. I look at her. She’s smiling.

But I’m sure it’s not real. She doesn’t want it.

Now it gets dark. And I’m happy this is all over.