PRETTY DEVILS
Daniel's frustration blinded him to her charm.
"It's not her fault, it's that silly boy Jack's fault," Mr. Daniel muttered to himself, his voice low and venomous. He yanked open the door of his car, parked on the main road beside the woods, and slid into the driver's seat. With a snarl, he punched the steering wheel repeatedly, the horn blaring in protest. His anger boiled over, and he cursed, "Fuçk!" punching the wheel again before brushing his hair back with a sweeping motion, his chest heaving with ragged breaths.
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