Chapter 17 The Cost Of Pride

• ⊰ Marcel ⊱
• With my chin tucked between my thumb and index finger, I brush the underside of my jaw aimlessly as I lean back into the brown leather chair of the parlor. My elbow rests on the armrest, the other positioned at my hip as I hold a half-empty glass of scotch on my lap. I tap my index finger against the rim of my glass, my attention drawn between the sound of the distant clinking and my thoughts.
• Why did it get to me? How did she get to me?