As the cameras rolled outside the courthouse, reporters were speculating on what caused the woman to savage her husband with a chef's knife as he slept.
By all accounts, they had a solid marriage, living in a large home in the most affluent neighborhood in the city. They had tickets to the theater and were active in their church. Both volunteered for area non-profit groups. They had answered phones on so many PBS telethons that people thought they must work for the local station.
She had been the chairwoman of last year's Charity Ball. They raised more money than ever before under her leadership. Her husband had looked dashing as she entered the ballroom on his arm, beaming. Who would have thought there was trouble in paradise.
Their children were grown now and were also pillars of the community. Both she and her husband doted on their grandchildren, taking them on trips to exotic places. They introduced them to the wildlife sanctuary in Kenya, went trekking in Nepal and took them to visit the orphanage they sponsored in Malawi.
Outwardly, there was nothing to indicate that there was strife in the marriage, let alone enough to cause such a brutal carnage.
When the reporters finally got their interview, all she could say was, "It was the little things."
His grating laugh,
the way he left the toilet seat up,
the remnants of shaving cream in the sink,
the winks he'd give waitresses,
the attention he gave to the cats,
the ever so soft slurping of coffee in the morning,
the constant humming while he worked,
the way he always stopped for yellow lights,
the muddy footprints in the kitchen after a walk.
But most of all it was the grating laugh.
Nothing big or earth shattering... just 35 years of niggling annoyances. Little things she thought about as she plunged the knife over and over and over again into his chest.
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Now, go on over to see who else is participating in "30 Minus 2 Days of Writing" before Nicky and Mike get annoyed with you and start sharpening the cheese knives.
