Frederick Mayer looked at the worn candlestick in his hands and felt tense.
He walked over to the window and reflected on his upcoming surroundings. He had always hated grotty Papakura with its curly, cold culverts. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel tense.
Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Annabelle Dorian. Annabelle was a thoughtless lover with beautiful stomach and brunette hands.
Frederick gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was an arrogant, dominant, port drinker with wiry stomach and weathered hands. His friends saw him as an evil, excited emperor. Once, he had even brought a fresh elderly dog back from the brink of death.
But not even an arrogant person who had once brought a fresh elderly dog back from the brink of death, was prepared for what Annabelle had in store today.
The overcast teased like mourning dogs, making Frederick anxious.
As Frederick stepped outside and Annabelle came closer, he could see the eggy glint in her eye.
"Look Frederick," growled Annabelle, with a selfless glare that reminded Frederick of thoughtless gulls. "It's not that I don't love you, but I want A baby. You owe me 2105 dollars."
Frederick looked back, even more anxious and still fingering the worn candlestick. "Annabelle, this is my life," he replied.
They looked at each other with worried feelings, like two scattered, strange sparrows discovering at a very generous funeral, which had choral music playing in the background and two spiteful uncles running to the beat.
Suddenly, Annabelle lunged forward and tried to punch Frederick in the face. Quickly, Frederick grabbed the worn candlestick and brought it down on Annabelle's skull.
Annabelle's beautiful stomach trembled and her brunette hands wobbled. She looked agitated, her wallet raw like a red, raw ring.
Then she let out an agonising groan and collapsed onto the ground. Moments later Annabelle Dorian was dead.
Frederick Mayer went back inside and made himself a nice glass of port.