‘Darling, I have a surprise too.’ David retrieved his box from the book shelf’s top row where Mary couldn’t reach.
‘Ah! Great minds think alike. We’ll take a chocolate from each other’s boxes?’
David nodded. Refusal would look odd. The poison was in Mary’s favourite orange cream, which he loathed, almost as much as the lover he’d discovered Mary was seeing for eleven years.
David and Mary died within seconds of each other.