Driving To Town Without A Word
I crouched, picked up the pens, and zipped the tote. Without answering her, I slid the bag into the trunk, closed it, and clicked the fob.
I got in the car, adjusted the mirror, and backed out carefully between the hedges. Deborah stood on the porch with her arms crossed.
The tires crunched over the gravel until the road smoothed out, and the only sound left was the turn signal ticking toward town.