When we sat down at the small kitchen table, it felt too intimate. The breakfast table only seated two places, and our knees kept brushing against one another.
I suppose he was trying to be a courteous host. He even went as far as setting two aspirins by my plate and a glass of OJ. Apparently, his guests didn’t get alcohol for breakfast. Bummer!
Halfway through the eggs and bacon came the annoying questions. “So, how did you know Ms. Noel,” he asked, making light conversation.
“She was my neighbor back in Tangi,” I replied, staring down at my plate, playing with my food rather than eating it. I felt his penetrating gaze on me that it made me shift in my seat. I kept my eyes fixed on my plate. My headache behind my eyes was growing worse. I just wanted to go home and sleep off this hango
