Thirty-Six
Wednesday, March 24, 8:56 P.M. CST
Coxen Hole
As Eva arrived home, rolling her Vespa onto the stone tiles of the carport’s floor, she let out a huge yawn. Two nights in a row she had been out late. She picked up the odor of fried fish and realized she’d never called home to let her mother know she had dinner plans with Tess and Nick. Mamá had no doubt cooked for her, and it had gone cold.
Sure enough, when she popped open the microwave door, she found a plate of fried fish awaiting her. She left it there for now; it would make a good snack later, after a hot shower. The nourishment from Nick’s veggie curry had worn off.
The house was quiet. Not even the sound of the television could be heard. She thought everyone must have gone to bed early, but when she padded quietly down
