The Sweetest Poison - an excerpt

What didn’t surprise her was how insane she was. She knew. She knew that she couldn’t stomach another moment sitting on what she knew as well. Since the funeral had passed, she had already been too dissociated to second guess if this was too fucked up, but there was no looking back. That night started like every other Wednesday, before his death. After work she came home, smoked a bowl, fed her cat and made the same bullshit Alfredo pasta she forced herself to like. After each sorrowful bite, and salty tear simultaneously fell into her mouth, it was almost like a lucid dream begun. She somehow ended up outside of his family’s garage: holding only canister crowbar and a Bic.