I used to think about the way the sunshine glistened through your hair, that first weekend I met you on the beach, how you pouted when I kicked sand onto your face, but just as quickly smiled at my apology. Little did I know we would marry before the year was out.
But that memory was replaced yesterday when I barged into a motel room and bashed my best friend's brains all over your naked body, the
blood-covered crowbar in my white knuckles.