|
|
|
|
|
|
|
D.J. walked into her silent apartment and tossed her keys onto the hall table. In the living room she switched on the television. A game show blared loud music and stupid questions back in her face. With a grimace she snapped the "off" button. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Silence descended once more. After wandering into the kitchen D.J. spent one minute putting her breakfast bowl, spoon, and coffee cup into the almost empty dishwasher; then she completed her tour of the apartment in her bedroom, where she plopped down on the bed and tried to read a law enforcement magazine. After five minutes of seeing the face of the kid she'd shot in front of her eyes instead of the printed words, she threw the thing to the floor and stared at the ceiling in disgust. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
If I have to keep thinking about him every time I |
|
|
|
|
|