Class Collective Story Writing


I stared at my husband, casually doing the dishes. The so-called washed dishes were covered by crumbs and spots from the Bolognese we ate for dinner. I managed to contain my infuriation by concentrating on the lovely sweater he had on. The one I gave him for his birthday.

This only infuriated me more since it was in fact my birthday today. I had not received a birthday gift, I was missing a lovely sweater. Not only was I left gift-less, my ever-so-loving husband was going to meet his ex today. I dart my eyes at him while he rushes out of the door, his leather jacket in his bony hands.

I decide I have had enough of this nonsense and follow him out of the house and into the dimly lighted street. He parks his car in front of a big villa and I do the same. I burst open the door of the white house, my complexion as red as my lipstick. I am furious.

SURPRISE! That's what I hear when I walk in. All of my friends are wearing colourful party hats and my husband is smiling from ear to ear. He hands me a bag and inside is the most beautiful sweater I have ever laid my eyes on.

I guess I was wrong and I actually have the best husband ever. I love my new sweater and I guess I don't need a new husband.

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