When Elephants Forget (Trace 3)
“She was barely five feet tall and weighed only one hundred pounds. Her body was the lissome physical machine of the dancer she had once been, and her fingers moved, even in casual conversation, with an elegant birdlike grace that deserved to be seen on a stage. Her hair was long and blue-black, a frame for the delicate features of her light-tanned face. Her mouth had been designed for smiling. Her voice was lilting and musical. Trace had never seen her do an awkward or ungraceful thing.
Until s...he fell on the floor.
She had entered their apartment on the Strip and had seen Trace at the stove in the apartment’s small kitchen at the other end of the large living room.
She dropped her bag of groceries and swooned to the floor. Trace ran to her side. “Chico, what’s the matter?”
“I must be tripping,” she said. “I thought I saw you in the kitchen. Cooking.” She clapped her hands to her chest. “This is it. The big one.”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” Trace snapped. “You’re going to make me burn my surprise.”MoreLess
Until s...he fell on the floor.
She had entered their apartment on the Strip and had seen Trace at the stove in the apartment’s small kitchen at the other end of the large living room.
She dropped her bag of groceries and swooned to the floor. Trace ran to her side. “Chico, what’s the matter?”
“I must be tripping,” she said. “I thought I saw you in the kitchen. Cooking.” She clapped her hands to her chest. “This is it. The big one.”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” Trace snapped. “You’re going to make me burn my surprise.”MoreLess
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