Dimming of the Light

1

She was screaming at me again. I didn't really care. Why didn't I care? Shouldn't I love my wife, cherish her, til death do us part? Yeah, probably.

"Jimmy, why don't you ever listen to me? I'm trying to make conversation with you, don't you care at all?" No, not really. But I did have to admit she looked beautiful with her blonde hair and all. Like a doll. I liked viewing her as a doll.I liked calling her her ,not by her actual name, so I could detach myself from her, piece by piece like little islands in my mind where becoming free every time she screamed at me.

She started crying. I strode up to her, wrapped my arms around her, made her feel safe. I could feel the disgusting wet patch forming on my shoulder from her tears, so I detangled myself from her. Now I would have to wash my shirt, another chore produced by her. After washing up, I find her curled in bed. She looked pathetic, all blotched and wrinkled. I started touching her in her impaired state. I fucked her, closing my eyes so I could look at anything but her deprived eyes.