She limped her way back to the living room. She tugged her blindfold up a small smidge, just enough to glance down at her little cell phone. She sent ... text to him of what happened. He replied and told her to sit. So there she sat, broken and crying. That poor little girl had failed. She was a failure. She could not please Him. Her body still shook. She wanted to die. Right then and there, she wished she was home so she could sleep and not wake up. Surly He would not a little girl who could not. “Nice!” she smiled. She then gestured with her hands to almost the same length. “Dad? Really?” “Didn’t you ever wonder, growing up, why we never let you into our bedroom on Sunday mornings?” “Mom, you little slut!” I laughed. Mom made a proud gesture like she was polishing an apple against her blouse. “Damned right!” she smiled. “Your dad knew how to keep his wife happy! And we ain’t talking diamonds!” I took Vince’s hand in mine. “But something just as hard as diamonds,” I laughed gently. Mom. More

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