Henry’s eyes flashed. They went from brown to amber instantly. It was like a match had been struck.

Anna looked away. She knew what was coming. She busied herself with putting away the shopping. Turning her back on her husband, she bent down to put some vegetables in the fridge.

The sound of glass smashing made her jump.

Instinctively, she stood up and turned around. Broken glass littered the floor, a pool of water soaked her beautiful orange roses which now looked sad and folorn.

Henry stood over them, breathing heavily, his fists clenched. Slowly, he looked up from the mess on the floor and his eyes met hers again, the amber burning like glittering hot coals.

“I’ll ask you again,” he spat, “where the fuck did these come from?”