I liked his apartment. It was a cute brick townhouse downtown, walking distance from the galleries and close to the bars. There was a patio in back, and when I climbed up the fence to peek inside, I discovered he hadn't drawn the curtains all the way. And there he was in the middle of a living room cluttered with loose scraps of paper. And he was taking off his shirt. And I was clinging to his fence, watching him. The white skin of his chest. His taut frame. Muscles, hard, there, but lank.
Then, he glanced over. I ran away.
YOU ARE READING
The Delilah 100
Mystery / ThrillerWhat would you do if you loved a killer? What would it take for you to get to a place of acceptance? You're meeting Richard week by week, but first, meet his Muse. Explore our ill-fated heroine in The Delilah 100: 100 words, 100 stories, 100 days. A...
