Ficlets

Mary's Missing

I hated this place. It was too bright, and it smelt of new paint. Cream color to boot.
It was too hot.
The fat one, Det. Conklin asked, “Tell us about you two,” he said in a friendly, John Denver voice, “It may help us to get her back,” he said.
“16 days without a word,” I said depressed, “If she was alright, you think i would have heard from her by now!”
Det. Roose was the thin ugly one – too many pits in his face, and eyes too beady and black to be a cop. He took his turn,
“Have kids?” his voice was like sandpaper.
“No, it’s just the two of us. Come spring, we’re supposed to marry. $20 a day to clean up other people’s shit isn’t a fortune to afford the ring, though, i’ll tell you that. And the house!”
“Expensive,” from Roose as he nodded.
I agreed.
“Do you guys fight?” Conklin shrugged, “you know. Married couples fight sometimes. Your neighbors say you fight,”
“We aren’t married,” i corrected.
“Right.. right!” the fat one wrote something on his pad.
“We never fight, I don’t care what the neighbors say,”

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