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(2 votes, average: 5.00 out of 5, rated)Early on Sunday morning, the great room of House 2 belonged entirely to Angie. The long kitchen island, so often a hive of activity, stretched out like a dark, calm lake. Silence hung in every corner, punctured periodically by the distant startup of the tank chillers. The air was thick and still, the world suspended.




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(4 votes, average: 5.00 out of 5, rated)Tina sat cross-legged on Shane’s beat-up sectional, nursing a beer she hadn’t actually drunk from in twenty minutes. The bottle had gone warm and slick in her palm, condensation pooling between her fingers the way she’d been pooling between her thighs for seven straight days now, every time her brain decided to replay that night




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(5 votes, average: 5.00 out of 5, rated)



(6 votes, average: 5.00 out of 5, rated)“It takes me calling you on my daughter’s phone after two weeks of you not speaking a word to me for you to answer?” “I-I clearly don’t have anything more to say to you, Tina.” “You never listened to my side of the story.” “There was no point. Both Bette and you are to blame,