Page 27 of Shhh…It’s A Killer Story

Young too fucking young. Early twenties, maybe. Twenty-three. Twenty-four at most. Young enough that I almost wondered if she'd taken a wrong turn on her way to a university campus instead of moving into the cottage next door. Shorter than I’d imagined and a bit curvy. Not the kind of woman magazines put on their covers. The kind real people couldn’t stop looking at. Soft cream sweater slipping off one shoulder. Fitted jeans dusted with gravel near the hems. A pair of heels she was rapidly beginning to regret by the looks of it. Dark curls spilled over her shoulders in complete defiance of whatever brush she’d attempted to use earlier that day. The moon caught the black strands woven through the hair resembling white stripes through the hair, making them glow every time she moved.

She was beautiful and not in the polished, intimidating way magazine covers tried to manufacture. She looked… Alive. Like she’d laughed recently and cried during sad movies. Like she’d absolutely argue with strangers over whether pineapple belonged on pizza. Warm and bright, making me almost want to squint my eyes.

“…You’re doing this on purpose.”

Silence. Then she nodded.

“I knew it.”

I frowned. I looked around, pretty fucking sure we we’re the only ones here. The fuck she talking to? She wasn’t talking to herself. Right? She was looking… At two garden gnomes sitting on the dashboard of her car. She pointed a finger toward them.

“No, Gerald, I am not buying the black suitcase.”

What. The. Fuck. Just what I thought, every town has a crazy lady… They’re usually old but looks like the crazy lady of this town is my fucking neighbour. Who the fuck was Gerald?

I blinked once. The woman folded her arms.

“The black one was ugly.”

Another pause. She sighed dramatically.

“Well, excuse me for wanting to sparkle in my life.”

My eyes drifted slowly toward the dashboard again. The gnomes remained exactly where garden gnomes usually remained. Perfectly still, ceramic and expressionless. I looked back at her. She looked completely serious.

“…Fucking crazy people,” I muttered.

She bent to grab the suitcase again. It refused to cooperate. The wheels caught another stone.

THUNK.

She groaned loud enough for the entire neighbourhood to hear.

“I hate you.”

She was talking to the suitcase now.

“I am lifting with my knees!”

Another pause.

“…You’re both incredibly unsupportive.”

I stood there for another few seconds. Trying very hard to determine whether I was witnessing exhaustion… Or insanity. Either way, she wasn’t getting that suitcase into the trunk alone. I stepped out of the shadows making myself known by moving the gravel beneath my boots trying not to scare her but she was so focused she didn’t hear it.

“One…”

She picks up the suitcase struggling.

“Two…”

She bends over almost looking like she is going to fall over.

“Three.”

With a grunt, she shoved the suitcase into the trunk, and it landed with a heavy

THUD.