"Honey, what are you doing?"

Elvis's soft and calm voice echoed from the front door as you were sweeping the glass shards at your feet. It seemed like he just got back from work. The sound of footsteps grew closer until you could hear his voice right beside you.

"What happened, sweetheart? Did you break the plate again? Back off, let me do the tidying up."

He said as he pulled you back. You could only see the blurry image of your husband's back.

"Look, there's a scratch on your hand.."