The Wife rummages through her bag, looking for a cigarette. Her hands trembling as she lit one up and smoked.
She sat down on the bed, taking deep breaths as if the smoke can calm her nerves. “We all want a piece of harmony. We all want a slice of the happiness cake.” she repeated this to herself several times.
A muffled moan. She stood up, alert and frightened.
She walked towards the bathroom door. The tiles are red, now.
Her body which was once vibrant and youthful now looked like a shrunken heap of meat. The Lovers looked back at her in crazed fear.
She moved towards them, killing her cigarette on the nearest limb. The Wife picked up the butcher’s knife once more and hacked the dying Lovers.
“This is my cake. Mine, mine, mine!”