Two weeks ago, my wife suddenly claimed that she has turned into a flower vase, and she even provided several facts to prove that. Firstly, the same as the pure white porcelain vase on our dinner table, my wife’s skin is fair and milky. She’s also tall and slim with perfect curves, just like a vase. She likes to place a flower on her head, and usually, she stays at home quietly. These are all irrefutable truth. It seemed that she was no different from a vase. So, I said, okay, whatever you like. I sometimes think she’s like a silly but lovely bird when talking such nonsense.
One of the reasons she became a vase is probably the porcelain vase on our dining table. I bought it as a gift on our second anniversary. My wife loved it, and it was placed on the dining table from then on. It was once broken (by my hand, accidentally), and my wife mourned it. I, as a genius, later came up with a solution. I used glues to stick pieces back together, satisfied both of us. On this repaired vase, some cracks remained. They look like black patterns, and I kind of like them. Recently I found that there are some similar patterns, probably tattoos, on my wife’s arms. No wonder she said she’s a vase.
I was home earlier that afternoon, with a bad mood. I poured myself a glass of wine, drinking, and pacing around in the living room, cursing my boss. I was drunk; I must have lost control of my limbs. Suddenly I found myself smashing the vase to the wall. Crack, it broke into pieces and fell to the floor. I was shouting, my wife was sobbing, and I felt so tired. I sat down on the sofa and fell to sleep.
Later I woke up, still on the sofa, and it was already midnight. With the headache after drunk, I started recalling what happened. I stood up, turned on the light, and found the floor so empty and clean. Where were those pieces of the vase? And my wife also disappeared with all her stuff.
She left a note on the table, saying that she has had enough and would never come back. This is ridiculous. I stared at the note, feeling angry as every time my wife did any foolish things. She said she was a vase, and I tolerated her. Then she left me because I broke a vase? I can repair it again!
I tried to call her, but her phone was turned off. I sat alone in the empty living room. Gazing up into the darkness, I saw myself as a creature driven and derided by vanity; and my eyes burned with anguish and anger.