Mitch wondered if he lacked a soul as well. I'll make you wish you hadn't. That selfish part of her prodded once more, telling her she could stillget away. The sharp clack of her boot heels against the old brown flooring carrieddown the hall like the report of gunshots.
Struggling to keep hold of her control,she crossed the room, picked up the fireplace poker, and put it back inits stand. She still had her coat on, though her boots had come offone by the doorand one somewhere along the path between the still-unpacked boxes. I'll be there in a minute. The people are just like people everywhere-some are goodand some are rotten.
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