• She was standing at the kitchen counter, chopping vegetables for a salad, when she realized that she hated her husband. Her hand froze midway through a fresh tomato and all color drained from her face at her sudden epiphany. Sitting at the table behind her with his face buried in the newspaper, her husband of five years took no notice.

    She had no real reason to hate him. He’d never been unkind to her, he’d never forgotten her birthday or their wedding anniversary, he was an excellent provider and not once had be ever hurt her, physically or otherwise. And yet…just the thought of him made her feel sick to her stomach and want to throw something across the room. The way he laughed, the smell of his cologne, the sensation of his hands on her, all the things that normally women love about their men stirred up feelings of loathing and hatred she’d never felt before.

    On top of that he snores. The thought popped into her mind like a slice of toast out of the toaster. Not the healthy whole grain kind with all the proper nutrients for the day but the bleached Wonder bread her husband refused to stop eating for breakfast despite her constant hounding him about his cholesterol.

    She laughed weakly, the small knife she’d been cutting with still clenched tightly in her hand. Her death grip on the handle had caused her knuckles to turn the color of bone. The muscles in her fingers and palm started to cramp but still she giggled on the verge of giddy.

    Her husband finally lifted his eyes from his newspaper just as she burst into tears; hoarse sobs crawling and wrenching themselves from her voice box. He stayed in his chair and glanced awkwardly at the clock on the wall while wondering how long it would be before dinner was ready.