Resentment welled in her chest like noxious fumes she’d inhaled over the course of her marriage. She learned to ignore the little slights, because she knew she must do things to annoy him too. But over the years a pattern emerged, one that was hard to ignore. His rage, her placating, his calm before the next storm, and the cycle repeating. Through it all, she loved and learned to breathe deeply.
Though their last conversation ate away at her.
Over the years, she had breathed alongside him as he had fumed, his anger and bitterness leaking into the air they both shared. Over decades, had she inhaled his discontent?
Breathing deeply was the last thing you needed to do – or ever did, when you were breathing poison. She lay down next to her husband’s prostrate form, and closed her eyes one final time.