arca0506ware

@@@@@Right under The End of the Game, hanging from its red PushpinAnd she'd wake up thinking that the dream had been this conversation, the reality her father's suicide on Duma Key The rage was back, just like thatAs if it had never been awayBut I couldn't let it fuck up my thinking; couldn't even let it show in my voice, or Ilse might think it was aimed at herI clamped the phone between my ear and shoulderThen I reached out and grasped the slim chrome neck of the sink faucetI closed my fist around it 896 "This won't take long, honBut you have to do it Then you can go to sleep Wireman sat perfectly still at the table, watching meOutside, the surf hammered "What kind of stove do you have, Miss Cookie?" "GasGet the picture and throw it in the oven Then close the door and turn the oven on "No, Daddy!" Wide awake again, as shocked as when I'd said fuck, if not more so"I love that picture!" "I know, honey, but it's the picture that's making you feel the way you do I started to say something else, then stoppedIf it was the sketch - and it was, of course it was - then I wouldn't need to hammer it homeShe'd know as well as I didInstead of speaking I throttled the faucet back and forth, wishing with all my heart it was the bitch-hag's throat "Daddy! Do you really think-" "I don't think, I knowGet the picture, IlseI'm going to hold the phone