In the corner of her room, she picked up the book nearest her reading chair and began searching for where she left off. She couldn't imagine doing anything else on a Friday night. Two candles aglow on the table, instrumental music in the air. Perfect.
After a while, there was a faint ring near the window. Looking at the clock revealed that two hours had passed. All five feet four inches of her petite body hopped up out of the chair and went to the window. She moved the Crimson lace curtain and unmistakably saw her orange tabby. The cat was highlighted by the porch light in the driveway with his bell ringing as he walked further toward the street. What?!?
She bolted out her door, down the picture-laden hallway, and turned the corner for the front door. What had happened? There wasn't one good reason he should be back. After all, it was Friday night. Six - one, blonde and built, this man looked shocked to see her. There before her was her security and sense of safety hanging in the air. This man, by standing there had just ripped it from her clammy hands. She felt her heart beating out of her chest. He started toward her and she turned to run. She yelled, "but I locked the door!" Running to the kitchen she grabbed the gloc from her spice cupboard, turned to face him with it and fired. The poor man fell backward and she grabbed the phone from the bar.
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