It was late to be wrapping this gift, a most important one. Her favorite work of art made just for Joseph. She chose the frame carefully. It should not detract from the art itself, where she was determined to make him focus.
It had been five years of pain, all of it bundled into this last creation. It only needed a simple frame to have the paint strike an arrow through his heart. That is what she hoped would happen–somehow striking him down as revenge.
Marie was not always this vengeful. It was a result of misjudging what she proposed as a lifetime of love and devotion, turning into disappointment, sadness and self loathing. Five years ago she met Joseph–a prince she thought. After a time, his love dwindled, her confidence abandoned, and now she hated him, and herself. The art piece was the culmination.
Her mind had turned into an unstable storm of hatred and defeat. It was only as she completed the painting with her own special ingredients added to the oils that calmed her. She covered the painting, hardly waiting for it to dry completely. A plain brown paper wrap was chosen. The bright red ribbon finished into a perfect bow, and she rang for a messenger.
The courier arrived and picked up the package waiting outside Marie’s door. He noticed something had spilled on the brown paper but ignored it to make his delivery on time.
Joseph opened the present and then called the authorities. Marie was almost gone. At the stroke of midnight, she took her last breath. She was found shortly after, laying in a pool of blood by her easel.