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It was Thursday and a familiar melancholy was slivering through the halls and rooms of the house. A young couple sat at a table together with plates lying before them. The woman was tenderly chewing a piece of steak with closed eyes and a gentle smile draped over her lips. "Delicious, isn't it?" she asked dreamily, slicing off more meat.
"Delicious?" The man gave a low moan and looked down at his meal. It was a dead squirrel drenched in ketchup with shredded, crumpled onion skin flaked over it. He lifted its tail up and down slowly, his wet eyes examining it with horror.
"Well, it is Thursday." She ate another piece of steak and shuddered blissfully from its flavor. She savored it with slow, graceful chews. "Grilled to perfection."
"I think it was pregnant..." groaned the man, prodding the squirrel's stomach with a fork. When he pulled his utensil away, it was coated in sticky fur that smelt of tomatoes and death.
"Extra protein then. How fortunate for you." She paused and sipped from a glass of wine. Her tongue bathed and relished in its zest. "My, so exquisite." gasped the woman joyfully before putting the glass to her lips again.
The man only had an empty glass to accompany his meal. "Air's good for you. Why, we'd die without it, so be sure to drink it all." she had said shortly before the meal. The man fought back his tears and pretended to gulp down a mouthful of air from the chipped cup. "Good, yes?" asked the woman with such innocence that the man could only force himself to nod.
The man occasionally threw a pleading glance at the clock that watched them from the end of the room. He prayed that time would slow so that the night did not come, but he was ignored and the hands moved so frantically it was as if they were juggling time itself. Before the two knew it, the clock chimed to share the time. "Ten already? Time for bed, I suppose." She rose and gave a long, relaxed stretch as a yawn slipped from her lips. "Have a good night." The woman climbed the stairs and hummed a faint melody. The man wished to follow, but he knew that if he tried, she'd kick him back down the stairs and shove a centipede in his pants. It had happened too many times before for him to forget. He crawled to the couch and lied down with a heavy exhale. No blankets caressed his cold body, nor did any pillow soften the hard, wooden armrests that lied beneath his head. He squirmed as he tried to make himself comfortable, but to no avail. He simply closed his eyes and dreamed of happier things.
The woman entered her room and made sure that the door stayed open. She wished to hear tonight's symphony as clearly as possible. She swiftly undressed and jumped onto the large bed that she normally shared with her husband. She took his pillow with a sly grin and placed it onto her own. The wife closed her eyes and nestled her head into her nest of pillows. "Any moment now..." she reminded herself warmly as she pulled the thick covers over herself. The weak sound of weeping crept into her room and she giggled with glee. "Oh, it begins!" She clasped her hands together and hummed along to her husband's crying. Several minutes passed before a frown twisted and warped her smile. She opened her eyes slowly and rose from her bed. "No, no, I should say something to him." she sighed, resigned. She draped herself in her covers and walked like a dignified queen as she descended the stair way. She looked out to see the couch trembling weakly from her husband's soft wailing. "Hey." she whispered pleasantly. A head slowly rose up from the couch and two shaking, teary eyes answered her. "Don't touch the thermostat." She turned and ascended the stairs as the man slumped back onto the couch and sobbed once more.


BOTH CHARACTERS WERE KEPT ANONYMOUS FOR THEIR OWN GOOD.
BUT I'M PRETTY SURE YOU KNOW WHO'S WHO.
COUGH COUGH
COUGH COUGH
COUGH COUGH
WHY CAN'T I STOP COUGHING
OH GOD
COUGH COUGH
WHEEZE WHEEZE
MY GOD, I'M A WEEZING