Her hand retreated, replaced by her thumbs that hooked the cords of her panties and pulled them down, dropping them at her feet. She stepped away from...them, moving again closer to me, and left behind the puddle of blood that was her dress and the broken body that was high heels and panties. She walked on the tips of her toes, her heels kicking around in great circles as if avoiding broken glass. With every step she grew closer to me and I had not moved. My eyes were fixated on the slight shake. It was just wide enough to fit two people comfortably. Confused about Morgan’s welcoming statement, Aunt Jean sat down next to him and he dumbly gave over for her to hold the other end of the wine list.“What will you be having tonight? Beef, chicken, fish or pork?” she asked me. My mind still dwelling on Morgan’s statement didn’t respond and she asked again.“Oh. Sorry Aunt Jean. Uh. I think I’ll have lasagne with meat sauce and a glass of Zinfandel. I’m not too well versed on wines but I do. More

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