Untitled.

I knew in the same way that you wake in the night in a cold sweat, blind panic, eyes suddenly wide in desperation. That same familiar, gnawing feeling of dread settling in the empty pit of your stomach. Possible mistakes and oversights from the previous day scrolling through your mind like the headlines on the six o clock news. As you glance at your partner sleeping beside you, blissfully unaware of your fight for breath in the claustrophobic folds of the night, you openly resent their peaceful ignorance and would offer anything to change places with them.

Just as easily your mind is seized by a new, cruel thought - perhaps your inexplicable grief is as a direct result of your partner; who else has such a hold on your mind and heart? Was their kiss goodnight a little more fleeting than usual, their eyes less warm, their interest in your day superficial? A few days ago they had returned from work late. Your carefully prepared chicken casserole reheated in the microwave. A muttered and grudging explanation of tax returns is thrown carelessly in your direction, as they slope into the living room, kick shoes off, and surrender to the television.

You had accepted this response with a good grace, and a Mona Lisa smile.

Yet now, now you're frantically searching the recesses of your mind, trying to remember if Karen worked in the office on a Tuesday. Was her car fixed yet, or was she still asking for lifts? Was her envious glow from her recent trip to the south of France, still visible? Was she wearing the pinstripe trouser suit which showed her curves off so well?

Suddenly, the headlines change... 'Top accountant embroiled in salacious office romance.' 'Bitter ex-wife left with nothing after foolishly signing pre-nup'. And finally. 'Two lives taken in vicious attack, after extra marital affair is discovered.'

No guesses as to whose two lives they would be.

The quiet contemplation of violence and retribution only serves to calm your beating heart. You glance at the motionless figure beside you and consider how easily you could smother them with the cotton pillows that you asked for on your wedding registry earlier that year.

You won't do it of course, that goes without saying. Instead, you will kiss them goodbye the next morning, hand them their organically sourced lunch, and spend the remainder of the day researching season tickets for their upcoming birthday.

The three am stream of consciousness will be forgotten, and if anyone were to ever suggest that you harboured such dark, depraved thoughts, you would adamantly protest your innocence. You would go on to attend work functions in a Laura Ashley tea dress, bought on sale, and stand beside him, beaming with assumed pride at the sea of faces before you. Hand in his, the very picture of a dutiful and happy wife.

Of course; this is why I decided never to marry.

I haven't even so much as lived with a man, or a woman for that matter.

I simply wanted to speak your language - the language of domestic, suburban boredom, and repressed ambition. I am sure I struck a chord with many of you, before you shook yourself from the daydream, and renounced any part of it. Some; more than you would imagine, will have followed me all of the way, carefully exploring every detail, relishing my words, and finding delicious pleasure in their sentiment.

A handful will go that one step further.