” Frida, ” my boyfriend Stuart always says, ” it’s date night, it’s not like we’re checking into a hospital so you can donate a kidney to me or the world is going to end in 15 minutes and we have to decide what we want our last words to each other to be. It’s date night. Wear something pretty and I’ll  be on time.

But date night is a big deal to me because Stuart Wolfe is the best person I have ever known in an entire life of knowing people I didn’t like.

So date night matters to me.

Tonight I was going to make a special dinner and I bought a new outfit and the center piece of the evening is a Vinyl copy of the first album we ever listened to together back in Junior Highschool- Dream Police by Cheap Trick.

I planned this night for weeks and weeks and wouldn’t you know it?

Tonight I’m running late-truly running late.

My chest feels full and heavy, my throat is dry. I can hardly draw a breath because I am sure that if I do I will break down and cry.

When I got it in, I nearly ran into a wall on my way to the kitchen, the kitchen which was cold and dark- it didn’t smell good and it wasn’t warm. I didn’t have to go into the living room to know how uninviting that was and  when I thought about how I had planned a wonderful evening with music playing on our old school stereo and how I wanted our living room to be bathed in golden fire light with the smells of a wonderful meal wafting through the air  when Stuart walked in I nearly sat down at the kitchen table and thought about what a scatter brained, unreliable wife I was.

He says that’s not true, but tonight I think I am going to prove myself right.

I standing there in the middle a cold dark kitchen- a  useless pile of emotional wreckage when I heard the front door open.

I heard footsteps go down the hall into the living room.

I squared my shoulders and I went down the hall into the living room.

I went up behind him quiet as a mouse, with small timid baby steps  and  I reached out  and wound  the hair on the back of his head around my fingers, then I yanked his head back and I slit his throat.

I stood, as I do on all of my date nights with Stuart- in stranger’s house in a pool of blood but tonight was different.

Tonight I was running late- I hope Stuart understands that I am an imperfect human being trying to be the perfect wife who can at least pull off the perfect date night.

I never quite hit the mark.

Inspired by Day One Flash Fiction Challenge / It All Starts With  A Breath