I breathed deeply and went back into the living room awhile later.

"Rebecca," I said. "I want to ask you something."

She freshened her makeup. She looked away from her compact and asked me, "What is it, Jon?"

I walked around the back of the couch, grabbed an accent pillow, put it down at Rebecca's feet and knelt down on one knee. She looked puzzled as I did so.

I grabbed her hand, cleared my throat and told her everything.

"Although I wanted tonight to be only a get-together, I thought about you through dinner," I said. "I thought about how nice it'd be to have you greet me at the front door after work. Will you marry me?"

Rebecca's expression changed from puzzlement to shock.

"I'm sorry, Jonathan," she said. "I can't marry you. I'm dating someone else. I thought we were only friends."

"It's OK," I said. "I understand. I shouldn't've thought otherwise before I knew you were free."

She looked down at her wristwatch and said, "I'm glad. It's late, and I need to leave."

She stood up, walked toward the front door and turned to ask me for her coat. I hit her forehead with the glass flower vase on the coffee table. She fell backward and onto the floor. The wound I opened spilled blood quickly.

"I'm sorry, Rebecca," I said. "I lied. I don't understand. I must have you."

She laid on the floor with her eyes still open and a surprised look on her face. The cut on her forehead sparkled with shards of glass.

"You'll soon be a part of me, Rebecca," I said. "I'll eat you! I'll cut through your skin with a butcher knife. I think a woman's flesh is the most savory delicacy!"