Malady

Sheila's belongings were on the front lawn. "If you come back I'll call the police." "at least give me my phone," Sheila shouted through the letterbox. There was no reply. She picked up a red stiletto from a black bag and smashed the heel at the window. A crack appeared. She banged at them again. The glass shattered. Sheila was in the front room. "I'm sorry." Blood trickled down her calves and onto the carpet. "What are you sorry for?" Asked Peter. Sheila's phone rang. Peter got to it first. A male voice asked for Sheila.

"Your test results are in."