Mourning Gloria (2011)
Mourning Gloria
“She lay very still, pretending for a precious few moments that this whole thing had been just a very bad dream and she would be waking up in her bed, safe at home, with the early-morning sun coming through a crack in the blind and the wonderful fragrance of coffee wafting from the kitchen. Coffee, that was what she needed. She would swing her legs out of bed, grab her wrap, and pad barefooted to the kitchen, where she would pour herself a mug of rich, dark coffee. With that in her hands, she co...uld face the world. She could face Amanda. She could—probably—even face Butch, next door.
But she could pretend for only a moment, for it wasn’t her bed she was lying on. It was rough, cold cement, and she couldn’t get up because her wrists and ankles were bound so tightly that she couldn’t feel her hands and her feet. Her mouth was taped shut. There was no coffee, no kitchen, no Amanda.
She stirred, shifting her head, which didn’t seem to hurt as much as it had before, and strained to listen to the silence, trying to hear any sounds, any sounds at all.MoreLess
But she could pretend for only a moment, for it wasn’t her bed she was lying on. It was rough, cold cement, and she couldn’t get up because her wrists and ankles were bound so tightly that she couldn’t feel her hands and her feet. Her mouth was taped shut. There was no coffee, no kitchen, no Amanda.
She stirred, shifting her head, which didn’t seem to hurt as much as it had before, and strained to listen to the silence, trying to hear any sounds, any sounds at all.MoreLess
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