Letisha’s POV

I thumped a fist heavily onto my sewing machine and winced in regret when my hand complained at my actions, but my sewing machine sat stoically on my desk, unresponsive to my act of violence.

Of course it's unresponsive, Letisha. It's an inanimate object.

“What did that poor machine ever do to you?”

I glanced up to see Adrian standing in the doorway. He was still wearing his suit, and a bouquet of flowers dangled from one hand. ...