Elaine
Carla’s eyes locked onto mine, sharp and intent, as though she were dissecting every word I said. The weight of her scrutiny pressed down on me, and I could almost feel her peeling back layers, hunting for something hidden. I kept my expression calm, steady, giving her nothing to feed on. Then, almost too abruptly, her expression softened, and she flashed me a smile.
“Well, it’s been nice talking to you,” she said in a tone that was too quick, too rehearsed. “I’ve got things to do. Tell the others I won’t be around for dinner.”
Before I could respond, she spun on her heel. The sharp rhythm of her stilettos cracked against the hardwood floor, echoing like a countdown. I heard her door open upstairs, then slam shut. A beat later, it opened again, and she flew down the stairs withou
