I hissed the words at her. “This, your America, it will kill you.”
Here’s the truth. We live in a model home in a prestigious village in a master-planned city. Beyond those borders, things aren’t so rosy.
I never did learn how the Vaughns got their money, but maybe that was part of the appeal—the mystery of it all.
Guy was released shortly after he was detained. His parents did their best to keep everything quiet. But already the rumors had begun.
She imagined impaling her husband on the molasses-stained tusk of that elephant. “It should’ve been you,” she said.
The bills were too thick to conceal in my pocket, so I reached inside my briefs and hid them there.
“I’m staging an intervention,” my husband says. “I miss my wife. I can’t be married to scrambled eggs anymore. You have to see a therapist.”
We wanted to embellish her legend, but now we were only the witnesses of her want.