Weirdly so. Maybe Jillian had gone somewhere and that’s why she’d called so many times. Though she never left a message. Confusion clouded Angie’s mind as she set her keys and bag down. “Jill?” Her voice didn’t echo, but it might as well have, the house felt so empty. Furrowing her brow, Angie moved through the house, glanced up the stairs and saw no lights. Maybe Jillian was working in her studio. When she took the first step, she caught something out of the corner of her eye in the living room, and changed direction. Jillian was sitting on the floor in the dark, her back against the wall, Boo’s head in her lap, the rest of her covered with an afghan. Angie squinted, but couldn’t make sense of it all, so she bent to the lamp, clicked it on. And she knew. “Oh, god.” Angie dropped to her knees. Jillian’s face was blotchy. Her eyes were red and swollen. Boo’s eyes were lifeless, cloudy and glazed, her tongue protruding slightly. “Jillian? Baby? Are you okay?” Angie touched Jillian’s face, pushed her hair behind her ear.
What do You think about Olive Oil And White Bread?
