Reverie

Despite how things looked, she really hadn’t meant for it to happen. In the midst of the argument she had absentmindedly picked up the vase. It had been her grandmother’s and she remembered how it caught the light from the stained glass window above the mahogany table that it sat on in the entryway of the old Victorian on 5th Street. She’d spent so much time there with Gran but that seemed so long ago and far away.
She remembered the smell of coffee that greeted her as soon as she walked in the frontdoor. Not American coffee, but espresso, strong and dark, demanding her full attention. When she was a little girl, her grandmother would dip sugar cubes in the espresso for her to suck on. She missed her so, the calm that had always enveloped the rooms where she lived. Everything ordered and peaceful, nothing at all like Maria's life now.
She became aware of his angry voice behind her, demanding her attention, pulling her out of her reverie. This wasn’t how she had imagined it would be. This wasn’t what she had hoped for all her life.
She didn’t really even remember it happening. The police noted that she seemed very calm as she drank her espresso and answered their questions.. No, she really couldn’t recall any details at all. But clearly something had happened because Edward was lying dead on the floor with a leaded crystal vase, still intact, next to his head. The mahogany table was toppled over on its side beside him.
Interestingly, old Mrs. Fitzwater believed she remembered hearing a story, years back, of a similar incident taking place on the far end of town, somewhere around 5th street. The details were fuzzy but she thought she recalled an accidental death involving a leaded glass vase in one of the big Victorian homes up on the hill.