it was nearing four o'clock. normally, you would have already started making dinner in order for it to be prepared fully by six. only, you couldn't think of anything to cook. not to mention, your husband was yammering on about some plan he was doing with his friends or business partners, or whatever they were.

what were you going to cook? your kids, (feel free to give descriptions of the kids as you want them), were upstairs, whatever they were doing. they weren't picky children, so you could make everything. you tapped your fancy white heels against the smooth wooden flooring of your, in your own opinion, too grand living room.

"i don't know. there just seems like so much things i gotta do for this to go right," your husband, jimmy, said. but, the message fell on lost ears. and he didn't seem to notice. "i feel as if there so much blood i have to shed to make everything go perfectly for this heist."