The Perfect Wife

She stared into the mirror at her beautifully painted face. Her perfect features enhanced by expertly applied makeup. The elegant dress she wore was so tight...too tight. She struggled to breath. That was all she really wanted, to be able to breath again. Was that so much to ask?

Her husband would be expecting her downstairs soon, to be the perfect hostess to their guests. His guests. After the dinner, and hours of their numblingly mindless chatter, he would almost certainly berate her for something she’d done wrong. She’d eaten too much. She hadn’t been engaged enough with their guests. She wasn’t being friendly enough. She was being too friendly...

God she just wanted to breath! In the mirror, a single black,wet streak stained the cheek of her otherwise immaculate face. She walked to her window and opened it to a burst of wonderfully fresh, crisp air. Gazing at the pavement far below her, she drew in a deep, magnificent breath.

Falling weightlessly, the wind in her hair, peace washed over her. She smiled. She was finally, truly free.