THE LITTLE RENDEZVOUS
"You can't fucking say something?" A smirk appeared on Marcella's perfectly lined lips.
This lady was growing into a threat, and as the day went by, her plans seemed to be tilting. First, she wanted me to divorce Enid, and now she was trying to uncover the truth behind my brown eyes.
"Why did you cut your hair? Why did you fucking dye it? Your eyes, what the fuck did you do to them?"
I was nervous to the pits of my stomach, beads of perspiration trailing down my back beneath my dress. My lips shivered, and I thought of how to answer her unnerving questions.
Instead, with a great shove, I pushed her aside, quickly turning inside and heading straight towards the stairs, hoping to disappear into the comforting room I stayed in.
I hurriedly selected my strides and headed towards the stairs, but just then, I bumped into someone, and the contents of the laundry basket spilled onto the floor.
Miss Baxton glared from the spilled-out laundry to my face with a defiant pout.