Saturday, June 27th, 2009
Samuel Trader ducked and the pen hit the wall behind him. Julia Delmark grabbed the pages of an article off the table and shoved them into her briefcase.
“You’re as bad as my goddamn husband.” She slammed the case shut. “Worse. Let them have their faith.”
“Don’t you want to know if it was actually schizophrenia?” Samuel smiled as he held out her coat.
“Looking through those damn bug eyes won’t prove that god didn’t talk to her.” Her chair screeched against the kitchen tiles as she pushed it away. “Or are you after the ratings? Do you think they’ll flock to leer at that sensationalist burning at the end? You pig! Some stories shouldn’t be debunked. And no one should go through that kind of snuff film.”
At the door she paused, flashing him a glare, and yelled that she was going bird watching, despite the rain. She slammed the door. But this had happened a dozen times. Samuel fully expected to make up in the living room, the kitchen, and the stairwell before dawn.
Tags: Fiction, sci fi, short story
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