Felicia
I watched Cindy carefully as she stirred her iced latte, the spoon scraping the glass with an insistence that matched the intensity in her eyes. We sat at the corner café where we often met after work, but tonight felt different.
Her words had been flowing like water, smooth yet dangerous, soaking every inch of conversation with carefully calculated insinuations.
“So, like I was saying,” she continued, her voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper, “Kimberly and Kendrick’s marriage is all for show. They barely even talk when they’re at home.” She leaned in, her lips curling into a knowing smirk. “It’s all a facade.”
I nodded slowly, masking my annoyance behind a neutral expression. Cindy had always been sharp, clever with her words and deadly when she wanted something. And
