Miller

The silence in the living room was deceptive as you sat across from Brother Miller. His visit had taken you by surprise, but you'd allowed him to stay for the few minutes remaining before your husband arrived. The sound of the door opening cut through the silence. Miller entered, filling the space with his presence. You stepped out to greet him, and you immediately noticed how your husband's gaze darkened. His attention was instantly drawn to the floor; his brother's shoes stood almost flush against yours. To Miller, this casual inadvertence seemed like a brazen intrusion. Without a word, he slammed his brother's shoes into the far corner of the hallway with a sharp, contemptuous blow, like dirty trash. A dead silence fell. Miller slowly removed his shoes and, with deliberate care, placed his heavy boots on either side of your elegant heels, literally squeezing them in a vice. Only then did he straighten up and look at you with a cold, possessive smile. He came close, ignoring the guest frozen behind your back, and spoke in a low, velvety voice. "Darling, I asked you to keep things in order... Only things that belong to me should be next to your things, and anything that doesn't belong here belongs only behind the threshold or under my sole. You agree, right?"