by Joel Arnold
“You were lucky,” I say, testing her. “To find a place so easily with this guy, even in this current housing market.”
Ellen nods again. I try to get her to look at me, but she won’t.
“He just showed you this house. Said it’s yours if you want it?”
Ellen yawns. “I’m tired,” she says. “I had a busy day.”
“Sounds like it.”
Then she snaps. “Look, what are you trying to imply?” Her eyes flash. “I got the house fair and square. It’s a nice house, and now you’re accusing me — ” She stops.
“Accusing you of what?” I ask.
Her eyes smolder. My heart races.
“You should thank me,” she says.
I leave the room.