![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Title: More
Word Count: 100
Notes: For the prompt "Crisis" at![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fiction_drabbles.
He unlocked his front door with thoughts awhirl. The latest victim’s sister had found a store receipt that…
Natalie sat in a chair, waiting, with two bags packed. Blinking, he blurted, “What’s this about?”
She rose deliberately, eyes iced with respect. “John.” A euphemistic slur. “You’re doing important work. I hope you get him. I just can’t be here anymore.”
He raised his hands, placating, pricked with irritation as his deliberations scattered. “Honey, wait. Let’s talk―”
“Now you want to talk?” Bitterness, veiled as she gathered her bags. “Let’s be real.”
“You hate him more than you ever loved me.”
Word Count: 100
Notes: For the prompt "Crisis" at
fiction_drabbles.He unlocked his front door with thoughts awhirl. The latest victim’s sister had found a store receipt that…
Natalie sat in a chair, waiting, with two bags packed. Blinking, he blurted, “What’s this about?”
She rose deliberately, eyes iced with respect. “John.” A euphemistic slur. “You’re doing important work. I hope you get him. I just can’t be here anymore.”
He raised his hands, placating, pricked with irritation as his deliberations scattered. “Honey, wait. Let’s talk―”
“Now you want to talk?” Bitterness, veiled as she gathered her bags. “Let’s be real.”
“You hate him more than you ever loved me.”
