49 - Kathleen
I jumped off the seat so fast, my knees bumped against the edge of the coffee table, the shock dislodging the pile. Slick magazines slipped to the floor, the thick door stopper flapping loudly.
“What?”
I couldn’t reconcile gentle Ziad with those atrocious “crime of honor” that the media touted with relish. But then, many murderers did not look like killers.
“By my own stupidity,” he said, rising.
He bent to retrieve the fallen magazines, and stack them again. He took his time straightening the mags, his gaze on the glossy covers.
“I told you we couldn’t get enough of each other,” he said.
He lifted the issue of Medicine Today from the floor and flipped it open. The thing must have at least three hundred pages, all slick and glossy and expensive.
“I was a medical stude
