Starts and Ending It was thirty minutes before seven, decent. Leah Cameron twisted the key, offing the engine. She was waiting. Even though she stayed a few houses away from Sylas’s apartment, Leah had to ensure no one saw her. Mrs. Cameron’s been to his place before; she's been there before, but not this early. She had to be careful. The apartment where he stayed was in an active community. Who knows if someone she knew lives in the area? It doesn’t hurt to be cautious. The joggers and dog-walkers were already running laps around the streets before returning home to prepare for work. Leah had her car blend in among the others, sleeping. Right after Paul left the house, Leah scrambled upstairs to get ready. Meticulous, she had the outfit planned for another surprise visit. She even packed food for Pat’s fridge. Subsequently reading the note, Leah's thoughts of Patrick Sylas amplified. She was tickled pink. None of her previous hookups made her feel that. She isn’t the type to bea

Creeping Division As days passed-a void grew between Mr. and Mrs. Lewis in their tiny apartment. It had been a week since Kitty’s mother-in-law told her Ken's secret, and all of Kitty's initiatives were rendered fruitless. At first, she tried opening the topic, which failed, but now, Ken was resistant whenever she expressed her affection. It was pointless talking or hinting alone; her husband kept changing the subject. Kenneth got out of the bath. He stood by the doorway with his pajama pants on, wiping the back of his neck with his towel. "The shower's all yours, dear," Ken said dryly. To Kitty, it did not look like he wanted to talk. Kitty smiled and stood up. Just as she walked past him, she gave him a quick peck on the cheek. Ken's lip curled up slightly. He didn't flinch or resist but took it as a habit. Her heart stung slightly but hid it from him. She expected his kiss, but Ken didn't kiss back. Not seeing the response she wanted, Kitty left for the bathroom. With a towel in

It Felt Right Kitty felt anxious. Since returning to the unit from Leah's, the pressure had been eating Kitty. She made it clear, in her head, that she didn't like to be on the receiving end. The idea made her angry, impatient, and itching. Breathing was difficult. "...I need to talk about this, but when and with whom?" The sun sunk. Kitty made it back in time to prepare dinner. Chicken soup, for her confusion, was appealing-so she went to make it. She found some elbows, boiled and strained them by the sink. Seasoned chicken breasts were swimming in tomato paste in the saucepan while Kitty severed the vegetables and individually tossed them in. Slowly her anxiety backed up but was still present in her shaky hands. Trembling hands caress and firmly hold the shaved potatoes- dicing them in fours. The knife kissing the wooden chopping board sounded like a donkey walking on smooth gravel. ~Chop. Chop. Chop. Chop. When Kitty was satisfied with the size, she immediately tossed the