The Lady
The lady sits and waits in her old, wooden chair everyday. She waits for someone to notice her. She waits for her husband who will never be here again. Her clothes are of all different cloth. Her eyes have grown tired and red from the years of waiting. She is cold. The lady taps her long pointed nails on the arm of the chair. She sighs. It has been another day without him returning. The same thought that runs through her mind everyday comes to her again. Why did I have to get so angry. She looks at her wrinkled hands. These are the hands that killed him. The lady has a power like no other. She has not used her power in years because of what happened. The lady pets her black cat and waits another day. She waits for the end to come.
I happen to love how you just threw in a murder. It gives in a different feeling then just some crush.
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