Chapter 43



That night, I was out like a light, sleeping deeply until the noise from outside woke me up.

It wasn't Ernest talking, but a woman with a thick local accent. You could tell from the voice it wasn't a young girl's. Girls have those soft, clear voices, while women's tend to be deeper and rougher.

I pride myself on being able to recognize people by their voices, yet I never saw it coming that the man I loved for a decade was nothing but a jerk. People said you had moved on from someone when you didn't always think of him. I guessed I was not there yet. I kept finding my thoughts drifting to Conrad, even if it was not love, maybe bitterness, but he was still on my mind.

I didn't get up. I just lay there, listening to the conversation outside.

"Ethel, where's Ernest?" the woman asked.

"He took off early this morning," Ethel seemed to be washing something. The sound of running water filled the background.

"Oh, I thought he was still in bed," the woman sounded amused.

"Fat Jean, what does it matter to you whether Ernest is up or not? He's not into you. Save yourself the trouble," Ethel was brutally honest.

and even laughed,

thinking this woman sure

know is he tossed you out like an old rag,"

would you know at your

know enough to have some shame, enough to keep my dignity,"

we're neighbors.

you more than once.

help me

Fat

guilt-trip Ethel.

play along. "Sure, you've helped me, but your intentions were never

my

I heard you'd taken in a pretty

got skin so soft

And she's

girl. I'm quite

I couldn't help but touch

it felt

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