Oh dear Annie, he is gone. Dead: forever not in my life. I shall no longer bask in his manly presence. I shall never again wait upon his every need. Never again cook him supper, for I have killed him.
Nobody is the wiser. I played my part as the damsel well. Oh Annie I cried, I was hysterical, I groveled at the detectives’ feet in my act of grief. I made it look as if I was bothered by his death. I even fed the detectives, while they searched in hordes for a weapon that was, right under their noses.
My weapon, so cleverly disposed of, shattered his skull. Broke it in to pieces. The cradle, the shield, the host of the brain he used to think he could ever leave me.
My weapon, meant to be his supper. A delicious one, even last minute. Which it