Page 139 - Anonymous
P. 139
nutcase. It is beyond frustrating for me
to behave so irrationally.
When I step into my front room, I'm
relieved. I take a deep breath and chastise
myself for my paranoia.
I place the cookies on the baking
tray and into the oven. A knock at the
kitchen door has me smiling.
“Come in,” I yell, knowing it’s
Chelsea.
