“Where were you last night?”

That question had an edge to it. The kind of edge that a samurai sword must have as one is about to commit ritual suicide. Terry could feel the edge dancing about his throat with every passing second he failed to answer his wife. She had nothing to worry about, really. He wasn’t cheating on her, never had, and probably never would. But how do you explain to your wife that you got home late last night because you were helping your best friend get away with literal murder?

“Just hanging out with Charlie.” He said with a fake yawn. He stretched out in bed

before sitting up, trying to accurately feign nonchalance like he didn’t hear the touch of steel in his wife’s voice.

Murder. That word had an odd new ring to it in his head. Before, it was something that happened to people, a tragedy you hear about on the evening news while gamely trying to pretend to read a book. Now, it held weight. Consequences. Now it was something to be done, something that was done. Something never undone. A collection of bloody teeth. An eye dangling from his socket. His stomach churned. His wife was saying something.

“What was that, babe? I’m still half-asleep.”

“I said, what were you guys doing last night?” He wasn’t as tired as he was pretending to be, but he wasn’t as awake as her either. That was dangerous.

“Just hanging out at his, burned a coupled down, had a few beers and watched the boxing.” Not entirely a lie. He and Charlie did hang out and have a few beers, but he needed way more than a couple J’s to get ahold of himself before the night was over.

“And you drove home?” He nearly winced. Walked into that one.

“Not for a couple hours. ‘Swhy I got home so late.” He turned over and cuddled into her stomach so he wouldn’t have to look her in the eye. “I couldn’t stay away from you.” He nuzzled the bottom of her boob with his forehead. After a moment, she giggled, and put her arm around his shoulders.

“You gotta be more careful.”

He nodded without saying anything, trying to hold in a sigh of relief. The steel was gone from her voice.

“And call me next time, I worry.”

He nodded into her stomach again. “Sorry, babe, it was a really good fight, I just got distracted.”

That wasn’t entirely untrue, either.


Hey everyone! Today’s writing prompt was Edge, like a knife, or the pro wrestler. Spent about 15 minutes on this. Post your own! I love hearing from you guys 🙂 

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