Today's OneWord: Withered

Lillian's look could have withered all the flowers in the room, decadent buds reduced to gray, dead globules of what they once were in their glass prism vases. She snatched the paper out of Herman's grip and proceeded to tear it, very slowly, in half, never changing her expression as her husband gurgled out a verb-less protest as she threw the pieces to the floor.

"Not." She uttered it slowly, word by word. "On. Your. Damn. Life."