The neighbors stayed outside for a few more minutes comparing their stories.
A borrowed hedge trimmer.
An extension cord is missing.
A child’s bicycle sat in Monica’s garage for weeks.
Apparently, I wasn’t the only one who remained silent.Disappearances and abductions
When everyone had finally gone home, I stayed outside for a while looking at the empty driveway.
My hands began to tremble again.
Not because I was afraid.
Because Monica had yelled at me.
She had tried to embarrass me.
And I refused to give in.Books and literature
Nothing terrible had happened.
Two weeks later, Monica’s landlord, Mr. Alvarez, knocked on my door.Resources for writers
I had known him for years. He had been friends with my late husband before moving to another state.
“I thought you deserved to hear it from me,” he said. “I saw the video.”
I raised my eyebrows.
“And?”
“His lease expires next month. I will not renew it.”
I blinked.
“Because of the video?”
