Kit poured another glass of Merlot. It looked like another perfectly stormy night. She struck a match and slowly lit the candles in her silver candelabra. Jeff was in the other room, playing the piano. The melancholy tunes perfectly suited her mood. She took a sip of wine and glanced at the letter on the table next to her. Tear stained calligraphy, practically a novel’s worth of apologies and pleas for forgiveness. She’d read it one more time, then burn each page one by one. Gather the ashes for use later. The fury of a woman scorned, indeed.