The hammer head made contact with the windshield at such a force that deeper cracks crawled down the glass cliff. She had had enough. She had put up with his cheating one last time and her anger took over. She grabbed the nearest blunt object and attacked his prized possession.
He’d acquired the prized car body from his great uncle, who’d loved him more, for some reason. He had poured every dime and penny into it and it was almost finished. He’d replaced the windshield just a week ago, she wasn’t even sure if the sealant had dried.
Oh, the sealant. Oh the months of research and testing to get the correct sealant.
Oh the arguments.
Oh the money wasted.
Oh the cheating.
She raised the hammer again.