Shattered
“Guy said. “If I could have gotten my hands on his throat, I would have killed him and I wouldn't have been sorry. I never knew that about myself before.”They were on the deck in the late morning sunshine, a pot of coffee on the table between them, the Gulf pristine and sparkling below. It was a morning like so many others in the life they had shared, and unlike any other they would ever know.Carol said, “Do you know what I keep thinking? I keep thinking about that poor man's wife, and how it co...uld be me who's picking out a coffin now and reserving the chapel and God, I hate myself, but I'm so glad, so glad it's not me.”Stress and sleeplessness were evident on her face in the clear morning light; her hair was tousled and her eyes were haunted. Guy reached across the table for her hand. She squeezed his fingers lightly, then pulled gently away.She lowered her eyes and cleared her throat slightly. She said, “Everything—happened so quickly, didn't it?”It was not the kind of question that required an answer, so Guy said nothing.Then she looked at him, her eyes troubled and uncertain.MoreLess
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