When she opened the door that morning, there they were again as they’d always been: two men standing on the porch. Black coats. Black pants. White shirts. Neckties. All smiles.
“G’mornin’, ma’am!” said the first one. The second one never said anything.
She slammed the door and with flustered rage retreated into the kitchen, finding herself once again unable to go on with her day. In truth, there was absolutely nothing stopping her. The sun was bright and the breeze was cool. The keys lay on the table and the car was perfectly functional. The children were still asleep. But those men. Yet even they wouldn’t motion to stop her from heading out if she tried. In fact, they offered no interference of any kind. They only offered greetings.
She halted before the sink and grabbed a dirty plate, scrubbing tetchily. When she finished with one she snatched another and cut the grease down to the ceramic bone. She clenched her teeth.
What are they doing here, she thought. Again!
She slammed the dish into the sink and turned away. She heaved a sigh and coughed up a curse. She stomped out of the kitchen.
