Murder on Word Street

Chapter 4

"How could you not tell me Camille?" "I was going to, but I thought he was in jail. I never wanted to see him again, don't you get that?" Cameron put on some clothes and shoes, walking out of the house with his messy, uncombed hair.
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Cameron unlocked the bakery and started making some dough for his special strawberry chocolate and vanilla cupcakes. Camille came after the finished make his specialty cupcakes, dressed for work. "Took you long enough to get here." "Cameron." "What? You love me? Said I was your true love? Well now that's all bullshit and because of you keeping the truth away I'm going to be murdered someday by someone I don't even know!" "Cameron just stop for a moment and sit down. Look, who knows if someone was murdered or maybe it was a firework or maybe someone wrote that to freak us out and paranoy you and I. You just don't know. And Cameron I do love you and if you want to not love me anymore that's fine but maybe someone will murder me and I know damn FUCKING well that you won't want that to happen to me whether you're " over me" or not."
A customer came into the bakery and stared at Camille intently. He ordered a cupcake and coffee to go and left and looked at her for as long as he could. Camille left for work without saying a word and Cameron sat and wrote a poem about his love life. He's never told anyone this before and he stopped but in the back of the bakery there was an antique typewriter. He wrote; What a letter can say. What a word can change. How one sentence could mess up a life. Sometimes this marriage feels like I'm being stabbed with a knife. Oh how I argued with her. I wish she was in my arms now and she'd be warm and comfy like fur. She was always cold. It's like her heart as I'm told. But I don't believe it. Such bullsh*t. But the color of her eyes are dimly lit. No matter the light or color I will still love her the same.
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Cameron closed the bakery and went home. He stared at the faintly painted letters on the houses and it only made him walk faster. He only hoped that she came home and that they could get over it and move out of that town. Sure it was the perfect quaint house for them but who says they couldn't buy a house and paint it blood red? But it could lead the potential murderer to their house. Oh how he wished that she could have a different favorite color.