"Why can't I remember?" She'd just killed him with a single blow. Michael's wedding anniversary gift lay next to him, in two and a half pieces.
She repeats what she said...to no one in particular; maybe her cat who's upstairs. But how is he ever supposed to answer that question. They haven't been talking either.
She thinks of picking it up.
She thinks some more, glad she never set up the answering machine. No one fucks with her time at home.
Clock ticks towards midnight. She remembers pumpkins! Why? Those fairy tales brought nothing but unhappy endings, every single day. Michael understood her. Better than no one else ever attempted to.
But she'd had enough of reality. She loosens the grip on the wrench in her hand. The thing is warm now, but won't be for long.
She asks again, not realizing that Michael will never answer her. Forgetting what had just happened. Forgetting that it's he who makes sure she takes 'them' every day, three times before meals.
Rachel's favorite program in the world is back...after a 90-second commercial break.