To be honest, I don't particularly care for it.
Definitely not my best work.
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He took her into his arms, staring into her light, almond shaped eyes, enveloping her with his body. Never had he met a woman quite like her; so loving, so caring, so kind. Gently, he laid her on the bed, saying he’d be right back with a kiss.
She missed him, although he’d only been in the other room for twenty seconds. He was her best friend, her husband, her everything. She couldn’t imagine life without him. He was the only thing that mattered anymore, the only person she truly cared about.
He came back to the room, two glasses and a bottle of wine in his hand, wedding presents to be used the first night of their marriage. Using the hotel night stand as a table, he expertly poured exactly one inch of the wine into each glass and brought them to the bed.
Taking the glass he offered her, she toasted their eternal love. Their glasses met, making a slight “clink” noise, and they gulped the contents down. He leaned over her, as if to give a kiss to seal the toast, and slipped a small dagger out of his pocket, a wedding present meant as a letter opener from her parents.
He thrust the knife into her chest, sliding it right in between her ribs, straight to the heart. He put his hand under her chin, staring into her eyes. He gave her the last kiss she would ever receive, let go, and turned around.
The stem of the empty wine glass broke as her body fell from the bed to the floor, her virginal white bridal gown covered in blood. The man laid down beside her and pulled out a small pistol. Embracing his wife of two hours, he put the pistol in his mouth and pulled the trigger.
