I peeked around the door into the shower.
There he was exactly as they’d said he would be. Stark naked, with a nasty looking gash above his right eye, his silly pink plastic shower hat on his head, soaking wet and quite dead. Impressive.
When I’d first contacted the company they’d assured me his demise would be made to look like an accident. They weren’t cheap, but finally being rid of that bore of a husband was worth every penny.
All I needed to do now was scream, act a little hysterical and phone the police.
My new life beckoned.
Photo prompt courtesy of Rochelle Wisoff-Fields at Friday Fictioneers.