Excerpt of Knock Love Out by Pella Grace

I want to strangle my husband and slam the door as I leave. I want to leave a box of pasta on the counter with a note that says, "cook your own dinner and suck your own dick." But things weren't always this way. Every day, his happiness was my number one goal. I would go to bed after him and wake up before him, just to make sure that everything was done. While his co–workers ate off of a shitty lunch wagon of five bucks for a bag of, "no one at home cares about me," he was enjoying his organic salad with roasted chicken and a side of vegetables. Did he smile as he ate it and feel as though someone had a heart filled with love when they made it?

Because ... I did. I used to love him. I used to. But, now?

Now ...

I want to have an affair. Rolling across bed sheets. Pinned against the wall. Called dirty names and treated beautifully. Being treated at all. Mean something to someone in the simplest of ways. No strings. The happiest part of a shit day. The escape. I want to get dressed up and go somewhere. I want to be wined and dined.

I want a reason to line and gloss my lips. In the morning, I want the pink stains of those lips to be smeared across someone's sheets. Their pillow. Their face.

I want a phone call in the middle of the day that makes me smile like a schoolgirl and for everyone around me to wonder why. I want to be spoiled rotten with movies and kisses and repeated, "I love you's". Repeated as though I'd never hear it again. Until I got sick of it, though, I never, ever, ever would. I want to jump in the car and have no idea where we are going, but we just fucking go. We just hop in the car and we just go. No direction. No thinking. Wherever we end up that isn't our day–to–day lives, that's where we end up. Let's go.

I want to lie in the grass, holding hands and talking silly. I want to giggle and feel five years old until the sun comes up. I want a secret.