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by Lisa McCourt Hollar
“What is a hoplon doing in a ziggurat?”
“Don’t be a smart ass,” Daryl said, looking over his glasses at his wife.
“I prefer the term, sagacious.” Smirking, Carole set the ancient replica back onto the miniature hillside. Turning her attention to the old ghost town she popped one of his chocolates into her mouth. When Daryl had first begun his hobby… reconstructing history, she’d thought it would be fun… until he began spending all of his time in the basement.
“The storefront is crooked.” She winced, realizing how bitchy the vitriol sounded. “I’m sorry, that was…”
“I was going to say willful” Carole paused. Why did it sound like a wombat screeching in her ear? Then the floor rose to meet her and all was silent.
Daryl smiled. He’d had to poison all of the chocolates, but he knew she couldn’t resist. Now he could finally be alone.
Word Count: 150