"Get out!" She opened the screen door and glared back into the parlor. The man paused, walking out just a moment later. Perhaps he'd come back in the morning. Then she'd be calmed down.

At the end of the gravel driveway, he turned to find her staring out after him from behind the screen, swiping the back of her hand across her face.

He walked into town, intending to get a motel room for the night, but a glance at a clock attached to a lamppost told him it was only two in the afternoon. Walking down the sidewalk amongst townspeople and tourists, he wondered what had prompted his wife to actually kick him out. They'd been arguing, of course, over various things—but kicking him out—that was a new strategy.

The only thing to do now, he thought, meditatively, was to try and make it up to her. He was not looking forward to staying in a motel with home so close. He looked at the stores surrounding him; what would she want? She had been wanting new shoes…but what kind? What did he know about shoes? Perhaps something new for the kitchen…but that would be expensive and he didn't have that much money on him. But wait. Everyone—especially his wife—loved chocolate, and it was supposedly the best way to say sorry, or I love you, or something along those lines.

The bell on the French door jingled when he walked in, and his shoes tapped quietly on the pumpkin pie coloured tiles. In the display case, he found exactly what he was looking for—Milk Chocolate Velvet Truffles—in his wife's words: "A long name for Heaven."

"Can I help you?" A young man stood behind the red countertop.

"A box of the Milk Chocolate Velvet, please."

With a box wrapped carefully in candy-cane coloured paper, the man started back down the street towards his home. The red velvet ribbon tying the box shut fluttered a little in the breeze, tickling his palm.

He smiled to himself, recalling how much his wife loved these particular truffles, anticipating forgiveness when he stepped through the front door.

It was about time to fetch her husband, she thought, looking out from behind the lace curtains. She'd never quite forgive him, but…he deserved to come home, she supposed. Though the more she thought about, it really was a silly argument, meaningless in the grand scheme of things.

Shrugging on the coat he'd given her last Christmas, she walked to town, approaching the nearest motel. She saw a paramedic van, a few onlookers, two police, and, though she wanted to see her husband, allowed curiosity to overcome her.

She stepped up to the scene. Red ribbon lie, trailing, by her feet, leading to the crumpled man on the street. As the paramedics lifted him up into a gurney, checked his pulse and other vital signs, and declared him dead, she saw her husband, flashing lights, and a smashed candy cane coloured box of Milk Chocolate Velvet Truffles.