The Wrong Kind Of Desire
Its trunk hung open, and a man stepped into view, loading a pair of suitcases inside.
Julie suddenly appeared in front of the taxi. I could tell she was angry and disappointed. She opened the door, took her seat, and didn’t glance back at the mansion. She didn’t even wait for my dad and Sarah to get back to say her goodbye. As the driver turned to leave, I looked up to see Allison staring from her bedroom window as the car drove off, heading to the main gate.
I took a sip of my coffee — black, no sugar, no milk, just the way I liked it. The hot, bitter taste traced down my throat.