I took the tomatoes from the fridge. They looked juicy and shiny red. It was already 8 p.m but I did not want to hurry : Richard was always late on Friday nights. It was cold outside so the windows of the kitchen were misted up with the diner cooking inside.
I precisely cut the tomatoes as Richard loved them and he entered the apartment at that very moment saying : « sorry I’m late Maria.»; and then I saw him in the kitchen doorway: I wanted to stay calm but I was boiling inside. I wanted to look at him as I always did when he was entering the kitchen, late, on friday nights, but I was petrified yet animated with a force coming from the inside. The tomatoes even got pale in the plate when I aimed to Richard’s heart with the knife I was holding in my hand. I did not hear anything but those five words Richard pronounced that night. I was astonishingly calm but precise when the knife entered his heart at 8.30 p.m.
He had no time to think, no time to avoid me, no time to even apologize. The knife took his heart more easily than I thought and the blood burst out at my face giving him no time to hear me telling him: «my name is Sophia!»