Reality hit her like a train on a track.

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The glass vase that shone with intricate laces of old lavender floral designs shattered against the living room wall, sending dangerous shards of glass across the room- raining down on Julie. She was seething. She could only see red as she breathed shallowly through her clenched teeth, staring down her cowering husband that was trapped in the far corner of the room.

“Julie- just, relax.” He pleaded, his arms up in front of his face, protecting himself from whatever object she would throw next.

A shriek escaped her tight throat and she reached for the wooden chair that was next to her prized dining room set-up. The adrenaline pumping through her veins was her husband’s worst nightmare, as she lifted the chair effortlessly and flung it at him.

“Lying bastard!” Her voice broke. “I pretended to believe you, I thought it would end!”

Her husband recovered from the impact; smashed pieces of wood surrounded his crouching figure. “I’m not seeing her! Baby-”

She snapped at his word and grabbed the half empty glass from their now abandoned dinner. She threw the glass at the trembling man.

“Cheating son of a bitch! I loved you for so long!” Julie took a deep breath, opening her mouth to gasp in air as her head spun. The blood drained from her head and she held onto the dining table for balance.

She plopped down on one of the remaining chairs, barely aware of her husband moaning in pain. She shook her head.

“Steven, what does she have that I don’t?” She asked, not waiting for the answer. She continued; “Gotta thing for young sluts?”

Her husband grumbled in response, shifted slightly still cramped in the corner. Julie continued, to no one in particular.

“You never understood my devotion to you. I’m not stupid, Steven- I knew all along. I wanted to keep this family together. But you were ripping us apart. All for …a twenty –something lonely vixen!?” Julie stretched to reach for a pack of cigarettes that sat precociously on the window sill and lit one, taking a long drag. “For a second, I thought, ‘why not keep him around, he pays the bills…he can keep screwing that perky girl.’ And then is dawned on me, Steven. Just last night, why am I getting screwed over? You’re the one that didn’t keep the promise- you know, the one at out wedding, 30 years ago?” She took a drag. “You were a waste of time.”

Her husband sat motionless in the far corner of the room, almost forgotten for her words were not directed to him. His arm throbbed with the long gash caused by a slice of glass. Julie rose from her seat and crossed the room. Steven flinched as she passed by.

She returned seconds later with his Enfield revolver. Julie passed him again, swinging the gun and her horror-struck husband stared at her.

“Steven,” She said as she sat with her legs crossed on the chair again. “Tell me, where did you get this gun?”

He did not answer, only stared back her, tears filling up and glossing over his baby-blue eyes- the very eyes Julie fell for 30 years ago.

“Steven!!” She roared. He jumped and focused on her.

“At an auction.”

“Liar” She said immediately, calmly. “That whore bought it for you, didn’t she?”

He nodded slowly.

“So she feeds your freak addiction for vintage handguns?”Julie asked her signature rhetorical question. She shook her head with mock sadness. “The boys will be devastated.” She took a lengthy drag from her cigarette and put it out on the ashtray that was on the table.

Steven’s voice was low, and an octave higher that normal. “Don’t make this mistake.”

Julie raised the aged silver pistol and pointed it at him. “I don’t make mistakes, Steven. You were my last.”

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