I rewrote a scene from Macbeth

  It was a gloomy day. It was a gloomy week. It was a gloomy year. Heck, it was just a gloomy time to be alive. Everything was raw and clear, she couldn’t bare to swallow the truth. For Lady Macbeth, swallowing the truth was like choking on a bone. Her frail hands tremored and she struggled to lace her black corset.
  Macbeth glided into the room gracefully, "Darling, I can help with that.”
  Without a word, he held her waist, tied the knot, and secured it.
  Lady's eyes reached his, then dropped to the ground with uncertainty. She didn't want to be attending another funeral. It could only get worse from here. Dreadful thoughts and worries echoed through her mind, but they only seemed to be getting louder. 'What have we done?'
  "Are you alright, my love?" Macbeth dusted off his shoulders, and fixed his posture. "Aren't you proud of us?"
  Lady Macbeth pierced her husband with an angry stare, but the look was not met with his.
  He grinned and waves his hands enthusiastically, like an excited child. "This is so easy!” he exclaimed. “It's too easy. We're at the top! We practically did nothing to get here, and now that we're here, there isn't anything that can knock us down. We're living like kings and queens, but only because we are.” He giggles and slurs his speech, like a drunken sailor. “You are my lady, and I am your lord."
  He embraced her gently, running his fingers through her hair. She gulps.
  Macbeth leaned in close, he says, "I love living like this, and it's all thanks to yo-"
  SLAP!!
  "Quiet, you fool! Don't you dare act so haughty. If we are discovered, it's over. We'll have to keep lying and lying, not only to our people, but to ourselves." She her lips trembled, her words were stale. "S-shut up, an-and stay persistent when you talk… It would be ashamed if we lost our positions this early."
  Macbeth held his cheek for a moment, sad because his affection was not returned. But, as he processed what was said, he apathetically shrugged. He watched her. She nimbly applied her dark maquillage, and slipped on her outerwear, muttering to herself of dispicable things.
  They quickly peck one another on the lips, and head off, on their way to pretend to mourn for the loss of Banquo… But Lady Macbeth didn't have to pretend too hard, for she already mourned for the loss of herself.