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More Wordgirl Galleries:
A Sample part of Wordgirl Story:Samantha had learned for the most part to steer clear of him when he was at work. Some of it was natural anger, she supposed. If she was hard at work, she wouldnt want to be interrupted, either. But most of his anger, she knew, came from his ghost half. He rarely allowed himself to exercise, and she knew that having to take anything of his ex-archenemys sorely hurt his pride.She sat alone at the huge dining room table eating her pasta and listening to the winter wind howl at the window screens. Samantha stared absently out of the shaking window as she brought her fork to her mouth, though it was night and she couldnt see past the wooden second floor porch support.She was almost finished when she heard her husband enter the room. She looked up.Well? He took a seat across from her. Where is it?She held up her index finger. One sec; your dinners still in the pot.She stood up and left the dining room for the kitchen. After filling a gold-lined plate from the redwood cupboard with a generous amount of pasta, she brought it to the dining room and set it down on the table in front of her husband. She sat in her chair and watched him eat.Do you like it? she asked.His blue eyes met hers. Its cold.Well, you were working, she deadpanned.I would have been done earlier, he said, if I hadnt been interrupted.Samantha ground her teeth together. I was only trying to be nice.Just shut the hell up, Sam.Samantha sucked in a breath of air, but otherwise didnt respond.Danny continued pushing the pasta around his plate. |
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