The Last One
“Ever since I was a little kid, I muttered. According to my mom, when other toddlers were throwing temper tantrums, I was sitting in the corner, my arms folded over my chest, talking low to myself about the injustices of life. She swore it came from spending too much time with Sadie, the gray-haired dynamo who, along with her husband Mack, had worked in our family restaurant for generations. Sadie had a tendency to walk around wiping down tables, talking to herself. Since I’d hung out with her a...t the Rip Tide since I was a baby, it wasn’t surprising I’d picked up some of her bad habits.
I muttered all the way from Boomer’s garage in the middle of Burton, down the empty country roads and into the rush-hour traffic of Savannah. And I was still at it when I stalked into our apartment and slammed the door behind me.
“Hey.” Laura glanced over her shoulder from the stove, where she was stir-frying something that smelled delicious. “You get the car back okay?”
“Hmph.” I threw my handbag onto the sofa and flopped down next to it.MoreLess
I muttered all the way from Boomer’s garage in the middle of Burton, down the empty country roads and into the rush-hour traffic of Savannah. And I was still at it when I stalked into our apartment and slammed the door behind me.
“Hey.” Laura glanced over her shoulder from the stove, where she was stir-frying something that smelled delicious. “You get the car back okay?”
“Hmph.” I threw my handbag onto the sofa and flopped down next to it.MoreLess
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