Sitting alone on her bed, fingers digging into the quilts, Susan felt a chill that wouldn’t stop. The cold atmosphere kindled a spin into her guilt, she was a murderer. Until David stopped his ghostly specter, appearing and softly waning into her nighttime sleep, Susan would not know any peace. Though he returned each night, David’s death was the risk she took. That was not a differing fact, she had indeed killed him.
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Wordle 759
The Bag Lady 
Good story Cheryl!
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