Definitely.

:insert shameless self-promotion here:

Yankee Doodle

Steve whistled. In the end, that's what did it. When he worked, when he read, when he was in the bathroom, he whistled. He whistled along with the radio. He whistled when he was deep in thought and he whistled when he was bored. At first, it was endearing. She thought it was cute.

When she was eighteen.

After fifteen years of it though, it was fingernails on a chalkboard. And the worst part of it was that he didn't even know he did it. When she mentioned it, he was always surprised. And when she told him that he even did it during their most intimate moments, he flat out denied it.

"I do not!"

"You don't believe me? What…you want me to tape you? Other women get, 'Oh, Susie,' or 'Oh, baby,' or even 'Oh, God.' What do I get? Fucking 'Yankee Doodle'."

"I do not!"

She couldn't get him to believe her. Even when she taped him, he denied it. It was a defective tape. She'd edited it. She PMS-ing. She wanted to emasculate him and it wasn't going to work, damn it.

It wasn't him. It couldn't be him.

Except that it was. And it was going to stop. Today. Now.

June heard the crunch of gravel in the driveway and the car door slam. The garage opened and then it came. The whistling.

Fucking "Yankee Doodle."

June lifted the skillet and waited…

It was going to stop. The doorknob turned.

Now.

:end shameless self-promotion:

I've given this some thought....