A gun, while classic, would be too messy, he thinks as he selects today’s suit and tie.
He considers asphyxiation as he slicks back his hair, but it would be difficult to make it look like an accident.
Stirring sugar into his coffee, he wonders about poison, a possibility though traceable if done incorrectly.
As he picks up his briefcase he toys momentarily with blunt force trauma, but once again that one’s difficult to disguise unless stairs are involved.
“Goodbye, dear,” he says as he kisses his wife on the cheek and heads out the door.
In the car he lights a cigarette, briefly entertaining fire but tossing aside the idea as too grandiose and liable to get out of hand.
The parking garage makes him think of carjacking and he wonders if he could fake a robbery-turned-murder, though it might require some self-harm for believability.
“Hello, darling,” he says as he walks into his office and kisses the handsome young man who waits there.
Poison or strangulation or gunpowder, it doesn’t really matter; he’ll think of the perfect solution in time. After all, he did promise til death do us part.
[ Tanim has loved this song for years. It gives him… ideas. ]