e had refused to put on her shoes

nting of a crimson storm. She had wiped a smudge of red oil paint off he

d at work

She needed caffeine to combat the dro

or swu

r walk

ng him. They took one look at the tension in the room, grabbed water bo

y f

er st

arms crossed over his chest. His suit wa

a fiddle with th

he said. It sounded

ed," Gracia said,

my employees infecti

close. Gracia could feel t

her face, then dr

fro

ked onto the

nt. It looked like a bruise. A

She was sick, she was broke, she was exhausted, and

corrosive, burne

space, trapping her

hitting the edge of th

ching her, but so close she could feel the warmth of his body, see the fury tigh

his voice a low vibration th

y wanted to slap him, to push him away, but his proximity was pa

did your husband just want to make s

k. Her fingers came away with

in

m it was paint, he might ask why a data entry clerk was covered in p

ldn't r

nd, hiding the red

she said, her voice shaking.

ticked in his cheek. She wasn't d

s voice ice cold. "But your

, putting dista

orical sales analysis on

s... that's impossible. The a

idger said. "Unless you want to go

out, slamming the door so hard the

red mark. She scrubbed at it with a wet p

ly looked l

r eyes. He hated her. He hated her so much that