Tiffany opened the door and froze. She found herself eyeball-to-eyeball with Tanya, the same Tanya who did not return home tonight.
Before Tiffany could release a sigh of relief, the transient but palpable panic that zipped through Tanya’s eyes caused every muscle in her body to tense intuitively. She found herself murmuring, or rather, demanding, “What the hell are you doing here?”
Tanya said nothing. She hung her head as she continued to clean the dishes and food off the dining table.
Tiffany’s eyes wandered toward two emptied wine bottles and felt her legs turn wooden, as though they had turned to lead. Against her wishes, her attention began to magnify on Tanya’s matted hair and her haphazardly buttoned clothes. She dared not imagine what happened before she opened the door.
But Tanya’s silence was deafening, it was pushing her to madness. Hysterical, Tiffany yelled, “Talk, Tanya! Talk, god-f**king king-damn it! What the f**k were you doing here?!”
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