Vera’s whole body was shaking. In her right hand she still held onto what was left of the bottle of Chateau de Sable. The rest of the bottle lay in pieces around Billy’s head. At first she thought she’d killed him, but then he started to groan.
The meal, the cheap bottle of red: it had been Billy’s clumsy attempt to rekindle any lingering passion. Instead, all it had done was rekindle a belief in Billy that his wife was his to do with as he pleased.
Vera had to think fast. There was no easy way out of this, but one way or another, this would all end here.
These words form my entry into Friday Fictioneers photo prompt challenge.