A Severed Heart

Prologue

"Good morning honey," cooed Levina from her spot on the bed. Awaken by the constant tapping of the typewriter coming from the fingers of her husband, she rolled over to the other side - still covered up to her soft, yet slightly broad shoulders with the sheets.

"Morning! I woke up with a great idea  to wow that worn, hat off of Francis! By the time I hit him with this plan he will definitely give me that promotion," Quinn exclaimed as he typed vigorously without taking his eyes off the keys. Hearing this, Levina beamed with happiness as she flipped the sheets off her slim yet curvy body and patted his shoulder as she stood beside his chair. Levina and Quinn were married for six months and already they have established a comfortable home. Quinn worked for the town's newspaper company. He worked alongside Berth, a good friend he grew up with, as the person who sketches pictures for the paper.

"Do you mind if I take a look?" Levina asked, reaching towards the paper. "Oh, no dear," Quinn responded with a quick hold on his wife's wrist. He lowered her hand and eased it down to her side, with his eyes still fixated on the typewriter. "When I am finished, I will show you." He slowly lifted his eyes to meet hers, still holding her wrist, and smiled. She was a little startled but she thought nothing of it, so she returned a smile with a quick nod of the head as she removed her hand from his now loosened grip. As soon as she turned and headed to the bathroom, he resumed the violent jamming of the keys.

For another hour she was still hearing Quinn type like a madman. She began to worry because it was a bit after noon and he still hasn't come to eat. "The food is getting cold, Quinn." The typing stopped and a long sigh came shortly after. "I am almost finished dear, I will be there," he said as he jammed his now, aching index fingertip on the space key. Levina sighed as she rose from her seat to empty the scraps from her plate into the garbage. She rinsed her plate then covered his food with it to keep in whatever warmth was left. She strolled over to the family room and took up her sketch book from the coffee table and tried practising her sketches. Oh God, I hope he gets this promotion.