He had left her empty — Void.
Emelie sorted through Marten’s paper — left behind were bills and more bills — left for her to pay. Jewelry, fancy dining, five star hotels, her Gucci dress
Marten claimed he went to Vegas strictly for business.
“BITCH,” droplets of spit speckled his mahogany desk.
She knew all along about his dirty laundry.
She also knew how to clean his mess.
Bodies were easily dissolved in hydrochloric acid and after some suitable time for mourning he would be declared dead.
Of course she would protest but at least his life insurance policy was paid.
I looked at all the empty bowls and what stuck with me was empty. Then I thought that my body-count has been a little bit low so I thought… what the heck, let us have some murders this week.
Rochelle always set the example and leads us in the story-telling effort called Friday Fictioneers. Hundred words on the same picture.
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