The couple looked so gorgeous sitting there, beneath the oak tree. I watched from over the top of my book, letting the pages flutter in the wind. The read was fine, but they were more enticing. The woman looked like a supermodel. Flawless, from what I could see. The man was less attractive, but I had a certain pull towards him. I felt as if he could be my soulmate; he seemed kind in that way. The wind swept her hair. He reached out and helped her hold it down to her shoulders. They laughed at the absurdity of it. I didn’t smile. All I felt was jealousy, hatred, and anger.

My husband of seventeen years sat there flirting, touching a woman I knew nothing about.

I looked down at my cigarettes in the ashtray. Then, to my lighter. Then, to their beautiful clothes. I didn’t recall ever washing that particular jacket of his. Must be new.

The only answer was arson.