When I got married, I never expected to be arguing about the colour of the walls!
She wanted green, but I wanted turquoise. Apparently, not agreeing with her made me the most unreasonable person ever to live.
In her outburst, she hurled insults at me that I thought cut deeper than any knife but, as I plunged the blade into her, that turned out not to be true.
The crimson spray splattered across the walls; in her agony, she left streaks of gore staining the room.
In that moment, I realised we were both wrong: red is much more fitting.
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