The frail hands stared up at the wrung eyes of the women. She looked down but did not see, nor did she notice when her head lolled to the side.

"Are you okay?"

It came as a muffle to her ears. She was okay, of course she was okay. Always she was okay.

"Go back to bed, you look tired."

Why would she be tired, she was perfectly okay. Her hands stretched out, reaching willingly for the spark of silver in the drawer.

"What's that you got? Put that knife down."

Softly she grew closer, the knife firmly in her grip. The scent of perfume wafted to her nose, an unrecognisably sweet smell.

"What are you doing?"

In a moment they were in the corner, nowhere to run as the cold harshness plunged through his flesh. Her ears were closed to the screams, her hand gone to the touch of the hilt as again and again skin met metal.

A gasp escaped from his mouth. "I knew I never loved you."

She smiled. All was well.

Morning fretted between the curtains, coming to rest on the sleeping woman. As the colour continued its dance she woke, slowly slipping from the dreams beyond. No one slept beside her, and she recalled his apology the night before. Work demanded such starts from him.

She slipped into the kitchen, murmuring around in her slippers.

"I had the oddest dream last night." She spoke to no one in particular, just shared her sound to dispel the morning's solitude. "Odd indeed. What was it now?" The cactus did not reply. "That was it. There was the strangest pool, one that if you went in it tested your immorality, and you died if you were found guilty." There was no shock from the milk. "It was so upsetting, because he went in, and he was immoral. He couldn't have been." The water from the tap kept its monotonous reply. "My husband, immoral, never! Oh and then he died, it was so terribly sad. There was only one other person there you know." The fridge pierced its hum. "It was that girl, from his office, the new one, oh what was her name?" The cup did not know. "Whatever her name is. Such a terrible, terrible dream." Silence descended, a mulling of thought on her lips. "I wonder why she seemed so sad." The clock only ticked. "He said something, yes, yes he did. I knew I never loved you, but who was he talking to, I don't remember." The kettle whistled. "Oh well now, it was just a dream, just a simple dream. I must remember to tell him about it when he comes home. Over dinner I think, I might make a roast." Her thoughts went into their pottering, sliding across the many aspects of her daily life.

"I must call her."

"My back is too old to keep doing this."

"I wonder when he'll come home today."

"That light is broken."

"I haven't done the washing." With a sudden move she made to the bathroom, recollecting what she should've done an hour ago. "What are the chances he put his towel out."

The neighbours heard her scream.

The frail hands looked weaker on the shaking lap. Around walked suits, confident. Jackets, less so.

"It's okay dear, it's okay."

Of course she was okay. What? They hadn't asked anything. She slumped into a sigh. How could someone of done such a thing, all the while she had been sleeping, just resting so peacefully.

"You shouldn't stay here tonight, come, stay with us."

She packed some things and left the house, her eyes already dry. There was no more to see there, nor more to say.

From the house next door she watched the drive where the single car sat. She hadn't realised it was still there in the morning, if she had… it wouldn't be any different. A car drove up, a lone figure. She didn't consider it, people had been coming and going all day. It was however, a young woman that stepped out, heels clacking she imagined.

"I wonder what she's doing." She had long since forgotten her habit of talking to herself, the many lonely days she had spent with no one but her speech for company. Now, alone is this foreign room, she was more with herself than she had ever been.

"Pretty, young face. Maybe she's lost, she looks lost. No confused actually." She leaned closer, face pressed against the window. "Who is she?"

The young woman was now with a man, it took bar an instant for her face to crinkle, her hands to twist. He didn't reach out and comfort her, only stood with perhaps a comforting gaze.

"Wake up, there's someone here to see you."

She was awake immediately. "I wasn't sleeping was I?"

"Yes you were. You were mumbling something about a girl it seems."

She rose and went to meet this person. It was the young girl who waited, her eyes brushed with tears. Condolences passed easily from her in an attempt to comfort the old woman. She heard little of it.

"I should go, it was nice to meet you."

She leaned closer to accept the hand. A hint of a smell reached her nose. A scent, recognisably sweet. A wisp of a smell, a crying figure, a curious gaze unto her.

"You're new in the office, aren't you?"

There was no reply, just silence. She had left.

There had been a day once, when she had seen him with another woman. She could not hold her tongue and asked, consulted, interrogated him. He had apologised, more profusely than she would ever hear from him. 'I love you', he had said. She had loved him. 'Are you okay?' 'Of course I'm okay'. She had felt no relief at the last time she had let her voice run.

Sleep would not come as night dawned to the single woman lying in the single bed. She could feel the empty weight on her hand as the wrinkled skin fell over the thin indent, waiting to be erased with time. With a reluctant sigh she reached over and took a small pill from its packet. She was trying to sleep naturally, but it would not be tonight.

"Are you okay?"

She heard the sound, saw the sight. He was there. "Of course I'm okay darling, why wouldn't I be?"

"Go back to bed, you look tired."

"I'm not tired at all. I'm quite awake actually, I don't think the pills are working right." She felt invigorated, alive in that moment of fantasy.

"What's that you got? Put that knife down."

She looked down, only then feeling the shaft in her hand. Scared she let it drop, but in her hand it remained. She was standing, walking, growing closer to him. "I don't… I don't want…."

"What are you doing?"

She was looming over him in the corner of the bathroom, the knife suspended in her hand. A passion of the moment, of the years, of the days, of the seconds, he had spent without her. She smiled, she screamed. "I knew I never loved you." He never got his last words.

She woke in a state of weakness, a frail body lying dishevelled on the bed. She was not relieved that it had been a dream A passion of the moment, of the years, of the days, of the seconds, he had spent without her., the realness more like a memory; clear and shuddering. There had been those words again, I knew I never loved you, but it was her mouth that it came from, her breath that supported it. With a fearful grope she reached for her ring. It no longer slipped onto her finger, its metal grasp tight against her rubbery skin. The officer had said it was multiple stab wounds to the chest, there didn't appear to be much of a struggle. He seemed to be getting ready to go somewhere. I knew I never loved you. She had always known that he had never loved her, that he took his life away to other women. She always let it happen, sleeping through the morning with pills. No more did she want it to happen, and no more it would.

The cold metal was growing warmer half-down her finger. She pulled it off, noticed something wrong. It wasn't her ring. Thin cut there was no gem, no jewel of its worth. Just a single band.

"I wonder where mine is. I wonder, I wonder, I wonder…" Every day she had looked at him, and wondered at what his day would bring. She placed the ring on her pinkie, watching it slip to a comfortable fit. His last moments would've been wondering at her.

"I'm okay."

Yet she wondered if everything really was okay.