The morning sun glimmered on the shiny blade and diamond-encrusted handle. The letter opener beckoned for me to end it all.
I turned to face the ancient, deteriorated woman lying in the bed. Her rickety state defied her mental acuity.
Her pretentious gifts and ostentatious accouterments of this elephantine house fed my hatred. If she died, I could leave.
I lifted the letter opener. I heard the door and dropped it.
Sarah, my younger sister by ten years, wheeled into the room. She would lose it all if I left. Mother defined the appalling terms. Here I wait.
“Good morning, Sarah!”