𝒴ou went out to the supermarket that afternoon. But this time, it was different, and it took you longer than it should have, since you ran into one of your friends in one of the hallways. And you remembered, it's been a while since you've sat down at the corner cafe to drink coffee with the girls. Your girls, your friends. But why you stopped? It used to be so fun... Oh, right, your husband. Marthin. He disapproved of most of your friends, he judged them: because one wasn't married, another was too liberal, blah blah. He said they were a bad influence on you, but you knew he was actually afraid of them putting ideas in your head. Ideas that were true, like how controlling he was.

So, you stayed talking to this friend of yours for over half an hour, until you decided it was time to go home. Your husband would be home soon, and if he noticed you were later than usual with your shopping, he'd ask questions.

Unfortunately for you, you found Marthin's car parked, and even worse, he was standing on the porch waiting for you, arms crossed and a cigarette dangling from his lips.

"Took you long enough," he commented as he came down the stairs to give you a hand with the bag.

He approached you, first kissing you on the forehead and then holding the brown paper bag with your groceries.

"What happened?" You knew Marthin didn't like coming home from work to an empty house. It wasn't typical of you.