“I’m home!” Abigail called through the roaring engine of the car as she drove in over the unsteady bridge which quaked loudly, amplified by the quiet night.
“Oh, God.” She gasped as the weak bridge gave up, trapping the car’s rear tires in the gutter way.
“Silly big good-for-nothing clumsy trash of a car!” she cussed, venting her frustrations on the staring after failed trials to zoom it out of the gutter way, “I guess you are literally old after all.”
Slamming the car door behind her with hands full of grocery bags, she stumped her way to the front door. “Oh Dian.” she sighed when she found the door ajar. With her wet worn-out boots echoing aloud as she dragged her feet on the wooden floor into the kitchen to drop her grocery bags, taken aback by the uneasy silence that enveloped the house except for the light rain shower on the zinc . ‘they must be asleep by now.’ She tried to brush off the dread as she made her way to their only room, the flowers on the sitting room table not going unnoticed.
Watch our for Part 2
