She didn't want him to die, not really. But she'd had to- it was necessity now. In a few ways, she was a little relieved. She'd never been keen on him hanging around with her husband anyway.
Betty was at the sink in the bathroom, her smooth face illuminated by the light of their bathroom mirror. She was humming a song from Chicago, and the scent of strawberry handwash was in the air as she scrubbed at her nails under the tap.
She stopped to glance at a framed picture of her and her husband that she kept in the bathroom. And smiled. Lovingly, she stroked his face with her thumb, leaving the faintest trace of pink on the glass. Then, as a thought occured to her, her face spasmed into a scowl.
She had to pay a visit to someone.