A necklace. A hair clip. A silver charm bracelet. They occupy a small box he’s hidden in the back of a closet. These are his mementos.

He thinks about the “next time”. His heart leaps. He revels in the thrill the mere thought produces. He’s addicted to the hunt. He doesn’t care if he gets caught. It’s a compulsion now.
But his days of freedom are numbered. He doesn’t realize his next victim will fight harder than the last. She has a gun hidden in her purse. He’s banking on her fear. She will pull the trigger. She won’t miss.

Happy 4th!!

She lay on the hospital table willing her body to do what it was meant for, designed for, told by all the cheering nurses in the room to to. To give life. To birth this baby.

She pushed harder than she ever had. She took long breaths as she was instructed and held them for ten, nine, eight, seven . . .

And her mother-in-law stood in the hallway and said, “She sounds just like Free Willy in there!”

She knew then, how deep her hatred for that woman ran.

And she will never forgive her.

It is 1 a.m. on a Saturday. He sits in a chair in his living room flipping channels. Still buzzed from the night’s festivities, he sees the commercial for a dating hotline. He dials. He makes a connection. Her voice is sexy. He turns on the charm.
Two hours later, she is at his house. She wants to “seal the deal”. Loneliness solved — at least until he gets tired and wants to go to bed without her.
To him, its just sex. To her, it is attention, admiration, and validation of worthiness. This won’t be her last time calling.