Too Late, Mr. Thompson: Your Script is Burned

m 3

eycard. The lo

afening roar in my vis

HAPPE

FRONTATIO

d the d

ere th

ess, his pan

overed anything, her hair mussed, a triu

k with cheap per

ask of shock, then guilt. "Ellie!

o shame. She moved clos

Mark? She knows. It

onfident. The "heroin

oking me up and down with disdain. "You were

and they did, but a cold ang

ay, Brit," I sai

red. "You going to

er, to get to Mark, to

shoved

push. A violen

ackward, my

of decorative stairs in the entryw

el ca

fe

ilted, then

in a hos

loe, my older sister, her fa

s an emptiness, a profoun

ound mine. "Ell

erything before the

by was

supposed to die for,

wreck. Red-eyed, unsha

never meant... it was

felt nothing. Just a

s glass. "The hotel security called the poli

ark' s head were a f

oes this mean the 'first wife' gets a

t see this coming! Is sh

anges EVE

e coldness solidify within

one. But I wa

t was officia