Last night’s fight still clung to Kate sticky and acrid.  Sleep, unfortunately, had not helped.  As she made her way to the kitchen a single thought crystalized in her mind.  The cold tile against her bare feet might have fully woke Kate up, but the sweet sigh of the knife being pulled from drawer invigorated her in a completely different way.  The sound of his soft snores, which usually left Kate smiling, was irksome grating her last and already fraying nerve.  She was just a twist of her wrist from satisfaction. 

If the feel of the knife meeting and then sliding past resistance was good then the squelch that filled the air as she repeatedly pulled the knife out and drove it back in was better.  Licking the heel of her hand Kate turned eyeing the doorway momentarily before walking towards the toaster.  “God I wish I had Brioche,” Kate said to herself, “guess it will be just you, me, and Sara Lee for breakfast Mr. Smucker.”  She didn’t even look over her shoulder when his shadow fell over her plate, “Just leave Gregg… before I decide that stirring the peanut butter wasn’t cathartic enough.” Her threat lingered in the air, the dirty three inch blade rested full of meaning on the counter, and the door shut with finality on Gregg the lying cheating mistake.


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So is it just me or does anyone else feel slightly murderous or rage filled while stirring a particularly stubborn jar of natural peanut butter… OK so its just me :/
Well I stand by my assessment; if I stir angry I feel better and if I stir happy I get mad go figure.