"No!" she screams at the television. Boyd stood there as dumb struck as she. The look of surprise on his face said it all. How could they vote me off? I'm the one who pulled this team together when it looked like we were going down.
The veins on the side of her head were throbbing, her face red from the heat of the anger she felt. "How can you guys be so stupid?" Her voice raised, trembling like she was in the middle of a storm trying to be heard. Food crumbs flew from her lap as she jumped out of her chair. The floor creaked under her stomping. Arms thrashing through the air, fists squeezed tight punching holes in the imaginary devils of her adversaries, the people who voted her favorite person off the team.
As the camera zoomed in on a close up of Boyd's face trying to catch every emotion, she was drawn closer to the television. Her heart still drumming hard in as she stared at his image. She wanted so much to reach out to him, to hold him, to comfort him and let him know everything would be alright. She would take care of everything and correct this travesty against the man she only truly ever loved.
She stepped closer and reached out as if she could hug him close to her. The image faded into one of those relentless and obnoxious car commercials.
She turned from her set, and as she paced her small living room she began to make plans. She would go to that television studio and give those people a piece of her mind. The nerve of them to kick off the only person who truly commanded an audience to their lame network show. The only person viewers tuned in for every week.
Outside the wind was blowing a storm in across the plains, lightning struck out randomly unable to control its fury. She reached for the glass of soda sitting on the table next to her chair. She was so livid that her hands were still shaking and she fumbled the glass over onto her half eaten sandwich. The dark liquid splashed up the wall leaving dark streaks and droplets glistening in the lamp light. The reaction to this clumsiness brought instant tears of rage.
As she looked up towards the ceiling, screaming at the unfairness that was being dealt to her and Boyd, her body trembled with fury.
Suddenly, the incessant pounding in her ears stopped. The rush of pain mixed with the silence was overpowering. Her eyes went wide and she clutched her chest. Standing there, in the middle of the tiny room, her body began to teeter and sway off balance. She hit the coffee table with a thunderous crash that shattered two of its legs. But she was beyond feeling any pain.
Her husband, who had been in the back room doing whatever he did every night to avoid being in the same room with her when she was watching television, because he knew how she gets, came running at the sound. He knelt next to her sprawled body and froze at the death stare on her face. Her hands still clutching hard at her chest.
The paramedics confirmed her death as they wheeled her gurney towards the waiting ambulance.
He looked out across the lawn at the news crew already busy at their job getting interviews from neighbors attempting to get some insight into her life. But the story that would go out across the valley that evening was that no one really knew anything about her. They all told the same tale. They only saw her leave the house, get into her car, later to return home, and never got to know her neighbors.
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