The Wrong Murder

I sat down at the dining table in my apartment, chugging down some coffee while my husband Julian flipped through the newspaper.

“So have you had any nibbles on the apartment you’re trying to sell?” I asked.

His attention remained focused on the newspaper. “No. I’m not sure anything will happen with that place.”

I furrowed an eyebrow. “You know, you could at least look up at me.”

He lifted his gaze off the table. “I’m sorry! Would you like to talk about the weather?”

“I can’t keep doing this.” I finished the rest of my coffee a moment later. I got up and put the mug in the sink.

About me

This is me: home-writer, book-reader, dog-lover and occasional poet. I make this website to share my and my friends texts with You, dear Reader. Please: read carefully, don't be scary, upgrade your mood and be king and leave your comment. :)