dorth avatar

by

I imagined our sit down talk: she 'd ask me one intrusive and hostile question after another, while the studio lights nearly blind me. Finally she would ask the question everyone wanted:
"Did you kill your wife?"
I would answer no. She would smirk, roll her eyes and say "why don't you just tell the truth for a change? It's always the husband. You're cooked!"
And I'd be so shocked she would say that to me, that I clam up- telling myself I will never again speak in public-even if I survive this.

But the fact is, I won't.

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