The TV was on, but there was no sound. The dull glow of the screen was all that illuminated the room while he sat on the couch. There was a sobbing sound coming from upstairs. He had come home to find his wife of seventeen years in bed with another man, a man he worked with no less. In his outrage he had pulled his pocket knife out and repeatedly stabbed the man while he was trying to get out of the bed. Surely he had done the right thing, but he couldn’t help but think to himself. Was this the first time? Were there other men? How long had this been going on? All these questions filled his mind and he couldn’t bear to think of them any longer. He stood from his place on the couch and slowly walked up the stairs and to his room where his wife that he once loved with all his heart was mourning over the corpse of her ex-lover. She glanced up at him and between tearful outbursts of swearing would ridicule and insult him. He took this in stride as he went to his nightstand and opened the drawer. In his moment of jealousy and rage he couldn’t hear his wife anymore. “I thought, we could try and work everything out and…..move on from here?” As she rose from the bed to embrace her husband he had his handgun pointed at her. She stood motionless as she gazed into his eyes which were normally full of love and joy but was now replaced with fear and anger. He raised the gun and fired three shots at point blank range, one between her eyes and two in her chest. In a bloody heap she fell on top of her dead lover piled on the bed. He smiled to himself and went to the bedroom window and closed the shades. People all around the block heard the gun-fire and came to investigate when they all stood in amazement and stared at the house as another single gunshot was heard.