(short story)

His eyes were filled with anger. The man was clenching his teeth so hard that they creaked like old chains, but he didn’t pay any attention. As if on cue, a flash of lightning tore through the sky outside the window and a loud boom of thunder rolled through the city, making the crystal glasses in the apartment clink with fear.

‘Shit…’ the man cursed: ‘Shit, shit, shit!!!!’

The coffee table overturned with the impact of his foot, and a bottle of red wine shattered on the parquet, leaving bloody stains on it.

The man was furious, ready to smash this house and anyone who came across his eyes to pieces.

Suddenly, the door lock clicked and a voice came from the corridor: ‘Honey, I’m home.’

A woman in a business suit kicked off her leather heels as she continued to say: ‘Be a good boy and pour your tired wife a glass of wine, although… No, I need a coffee first.’

The man punched the wall in anger, leaving a deep dent with a web of cracks. He shouted in frustration: ‘Are you going to die without your coffee?

‘I won’t, but you might…’ a tall woman came through the door with a cup of coffee in her hand, looked around the mess in the room and looked at the man, who was reeking of anger like a wild horse. The TV was playing a recording of a football match.

‘Did your favourite team lose again?’

The man crossed the room in a few wide strides, stopping directly in front of the woman’s face: ‘Don’t. You. Dare…’

But the woman interrupted him with an ironic roll of her eyes:

‘What a fucking idiot…’ she hummed and walked out, sipping her coffee.