I thought I hated my wife. Until she was murdered. I thought I knew her, too. Better than anyone. The spouse is always the first suspect. You feel guilt regardless of how far you are from the scene of the crime. I couldn't help but feel complicit, that our mutual and growing hatred had somehow taken root and led to this. I knew it wasn't true in a legal sense, but I felt dirty with responsibility regardless. Maybe I never really hated my wife. Maybe she just drove me mad. Maybe I would miss her. But mostly, I needed to know who killed her, and why...
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