Marked By Moonlight
“The same carefully laid table bearing the weight of her mother’s wedding china and a five-pound pot roast sat before her as it had every Sunday of her life.Claire looked around the familiar dining room. The smell of lemon-scented Pledge filled her nostrils. Every wood surface gleamed from a fresh polish. The silverware, displayed on a heavily starched tablecloth, winked at her beneath the light of the chandelier.Her mother looked neat and tidy in a white eyelet blouse and flowing skirt. Her fat...her, on the other hand, had merely donned his bowling shirt over a sleeveless white undershirt. The bowling shirt hung open, unbuttoned, giving her an unrestricted view of his bulging belly pushing against the thin white cotton.Nothing had changed.Nothing except Claire.She felt different—a stranger sitting in a chair grooved and worn from years of family dinners. A lifetime had passed since she last sat at her parents’ table. She felt as different on the inside as she looked on the outside.The gun filling the wide pocket of her cargo pants—its weight a frightening, all-too-real reminder that she wasn’t the same person—had a lot to do with it.MoreLess
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