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Michael Keith


Diane sat quietly, watching the evening sunlight speckle through the trees. It would be pretty, she thought, if only it didn't show the dirt on the kitchen window so vividly. "What a mess this place is," she said, half out loud. He would be back soon, and then she would have to ask about the gun in the bedroom drawer. That it was Lent, and she was hungry, only added to her ever-growing list of disgruntlement.