Florian had barely closed the back door when he was assaulted by his wife. Miranda’s red and silver hair was in complete disarray. The sleeves of her shirt were rolled up to her elbows and her shirt was sopping wet from washing dishes. She looked angry or distressed… miserable? Florian couldn’t tell. He barely had time to try and assess the situation as she ran to meet him, kitchen knife and dish towel in hand.
“Florian!” she cried. “Thank God you’re home! I was beginning to get worried! I didn’t have a number to call to see if you were okay, and oh my Lord, things have been so crazy this afternoon, you wouldn’t believe! Did you eat while you were out? Well, I saved you something anyways! That’s not important right now though, I have been through all kinds of hell with that devil of a woman up at the kids’ school today, you know, that black-hearted principal?!”
Miranda paused there and waited, seemingly expecting a