He stepped out of his green Buick and jaywalked across the busy street towards St. Michael’s. Through the dwindling church crowd, he spotted her wearing a modest floral sundress: Elizabeth-Anne, the nice Catholic girl.
If they only knew…
She hadn’t noticed him yet. She was busy gossiping with the other housewives as her five-year-old slept soundly in her arms and her loyal suit-wearing husband stood obediently by her side.
He closed in on this seemingly perfect little family.
He couldn’t wait to introduce himself, to see the expression on her face.
He couldn’t wait to send it all to hell.
The Weekday One Hundred 