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I stared through the open window to the dusty streets below. A gust of gentle wind blew softly across the cobbled streets below, engulfing the weary men and women in a grey cloud. Cruel coach-drivers whipped their horses, and the horse's nostrils flared and puffed out steam. The day was going past normally, nothing unusual was happening. I turned away, back into my cool dark room. No lights but a single candle lit my room, and the room was empty and bare save a bed and a case of books.
I went and lay on my bed, the scratchy covers rubbing my back raw. Suddenly a small quiet knock came from my door.
'Come in,'
In walked my faithful friend Evan, and he silently walked in and sat down quietly. His usually happy face was grey and hard, and he spoke not till I said,
'What is it Evan? What happened?'
It took a few minutes and a few tries, but after a while he said,
'She died Arthur,'
'Who?' I said puzzled. Evan didn't tend to have lots of 'close' friends.
'You know jolly well who!' he said angrily, and his eyes flashed red.
'No I don't, that's why I asked,'
Then, most surprising of all, he began to cry, and his tears flowed freely onto the floor,
'My wife Berry, you know her, the one I was married to for forty years!'
This puzzled me slightly. From what I knew about him and Berry, their love didn't get past hanging in the back streets and walking hand in hand. But I didn't want to upset Evan, so I just said,
'I'm so sorry Evan. How did she die?'
And he looked at me, and his eyes were wild and furious, and they were so filled with hate that it made me sit back.
'You killed her Arthur. You did''