Frida

“Are you okay?” Stanley asks me.

Am I okay? I am not sure anymore. I just watched a man die, but I feel nothing but contempt for him. If anything, I feel at peace.

“Are you?” I ask Stanley, whose face is grimmer than usual.

“I haven’t done this in years because I wanted to leave my past behind, so I am a bit shaken up,” he admits.

“Do you regret doing it?” I ask.

Stanley shakes his head. “No. I don’t. I did it for Molly.”

I smile and wrap my arms around ...