Betty had no idea how long she’d been looking at her scotch, the one she’d order almost a half-hour ago, if she had been keeping track of the time. Of late, time seemed to be slipping away from her. Usually quite attentive and on-the-ball, news of her fate was fighting to turn her into a distracted basket case. It could be that or maybe her surroundings…
© 2024 Day Rusk
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