By Tim Ritter
She came at me. Sweaty, naked body, frothing at the mouth, eyes filled with fear and deadly anger. I tried to wrap my hands around her throat but they kept sliding off her greasy skin. I tried to hit her to make her stop. But the urgency to fight wasn’t in me. Nothing physical was supposed to happen. A glass of poisoned water with her nightly medication and then sleep. I closed my eyes and laid limp under her struggling body. Finally she collapsed. My hands kept slipping off her body as I rolled out from under her.
3 thoughts on “This Wasn’t the Plan”
Dark story. It seems she was fighting death. “Raging against the dying of the light.”
Hmmm crime of passion or just crime of anger…