Excerpt
A Friday Morning in April
Coronado, California
The Coronado peninsula levitated like a mirage across the San Diego harbor, melting into the choppy Pacific, transforming my life. My move to the exclusive village community rejuvenated me, creating an illusion of self-reliance and security. Infinite possibilities floated in the balmy breeze, rustling the tops of palms like plumes on a rich ladys hat.
Those images vanished when the fog faded and I realized what Id done.
Max, I cried, pulling his warm body into mine, forgetting that he already knew. Something terrible has happened.
Max was hungry and uninterested in my troubles. He turned away as I rubbed my red rimmed eyes with the back of my hand and reached for a tissue to blow my nose. Swatting my arm with his stiffened tail, the cat reminded me of his state of neglect.
I forced myself from bed and into the kitchen. Im sorry. I forgot about you.
After filling his bowls, I retreated to the guest bathroom to take a shower. Tears melted into the pulsating jets as I scrubbed, rinsed and lathered again until hot water and friction burned my skin to flaming red. Sliding to my knees, the spray still pattering on my back and neck, I sobbed and retched until the droplets turned cold.
I shut off the force of the water, but remained curled and fetal on the slick glazed tile, silencing any outside noise with tortured screams of remorse. When I could no longer bear the pain, I pulled myself up and dried off with a guest towel.
I have to call the police, I said, my voice lacking commitment, a hollow echo in the powdered blues of the empty room. I need to talk to Mom.
Losing composure again, I crumbled on the plush carpet, drowning in the scent of lavender.
Friday dragged like a weight around my neck, but in the end I went back to bed without calling anyone. I had murdered a man and there was not another soul on earth I could tell.
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