imagine a world where if you said "literally" it would literally happen.
"Uff," she mumbled, leaning back and placing a hand on her belly. You smile up from your food. "If I have one more bite," she continues. "I'm literally going to explode." "That good, huh?" you ask. Your friends had said these were the best steaks in town. After paying a small fortune for the ring in your pocket, the high price of the food was nothing. Everything had to be perfect. "Uff," she says again, barely able to form words. You chuckle to yourself and stab another leaf on your plate. She's now watching you eat from tired eyes. She reaches for her wine glass and takes a sip. After a calm moment, you chewing your salad and her sipping wine, she sits up again. "So, whatever happened to the Johnson account." "Oh honey," you sigh, "I don't want to talk about work tonight." She shifts in her seat. "What's up?" She eyes you suspiciously. Your hand had found its way to your lap, where it felt around the ring box in your pocket. "Oh, nothing." Your nerves are starting to get to you. Not getting an answer, she leans back, a tired smile resting on her lips. She picked up her fork and began to push what was left of her steak around her plate. "D'you wanna do dessert?" you ask, a little bit louder than you expected. Your hand now tightly gripped the box through your pants. "Sure," she smiled, poking at a small piece of meat. "But maybe later." She popped the fork into her mouth.
After the fires had been put out, a team of specialists came to examine what was left of the steakhouse. The explosion seemed to come from a two person booth in the far corner, leaving the kitchen standing. The specialists poked through the rubble, but found no evidence of explosives. The evidence seemed to point to a gas fire. Digging through what used to be the furniture of the restaurant, one man found a small red box. The hinge was broken and inside sat a pristine diamond ring. Someone's perfect night had been cut short.