By Leah Harris
He didn’t understand why Bill never brought Annie when Martha was home. But as the months passed, the mystery plagued him less.
Annie was always excited to see him, greeted him with happy tones, warm affection. She liked hamburgers and roasts and made plenty every time.
Martha did not cook. Martha scowled. Martha ignored him.
On her way out for the last time, she yelled and screamed at Bill, the whore, but wouldn’t even glance his way.
When Annie replaced her, he rejoiced.
But their first time alone, her sweetness soured. Forcefully grabbing his snout, she sneered, “I fucking hate dogs.”
Very well written. You’ve set the stage for a very interesting sequel. Please suprise me again.
What was buried under that new patch of wet cement on the basement floor?
I also wonder that as well.