The Midnight Iris of Betrayal

an' s

my knuckles white, the angry glare of the setting sun doing nothing to soo

hesitated. She always answered. Always. Now, just

seat, then glanced at my dri

hook his head. "Not since yesterday,

hair. "She's just being dramatic. Trying to make

mall, vibrant shard of plastic, barely visible on the pl

It must have fallen from her purse when she was i

own. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the image away. She

ew, clawed at my chest. It wasn't just a nail polish. It

the seat, my mind racing. I hadn't actually cheated. Not physic

remind her of what she had. To make her fight

: 'Allison, this is ridiculous. Come home. Now.' The

llison, please come home. We need

ilent, empty house. N

d. "Dad! Look! I used Mommy's lipstick! It's so pretty!"

. Mommy won't be mad." But inside, a growing dread

diligently across the marble floor, collecting dus

school diploma, thinking it was jus

ird?" I asked,

ommy! But it wasn't a storybook, so I pla

n my mind. Divorce certificate. No. It couldn't be. Not yet

n, then carefully, painstakingly, knelt to gather the delic

ver me. Just our old marriage certificate. She must h

. 'DECREE OF DISSOLUTION. THIS CERTIFICATE IS NO LONGER VALID.' And below

e pieces again. No. It couldn

from the floor. Our marriage w