A Short Story : A Story?

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After visiting with Marlene and Jerry, picking up her purse, ready to leave, Margaret said, “It is getting late. We should go on home,” After his parents had left, turning on the TV, Jerry sat down to wait for Mark and Ashley.
Still, in a daze, Marlene yelled, “I don’t know who did it, someone killed my mother. They are doing an autopsy. Jerry, someone killed her,” she screamed, her body shaking from grief. “We can tell Mark and Ashley when they get home,” Jerry reminded her. “All we know is a neighbor found her lying by the side of the house near the trashcans. Other than that we don’t know anything,” Jerry said, patting Marlene’s hand.
“What about Mark and Ashley?” “Their safety is my biggest concern if someone went into the house and murdered my mother. My Lord, they might come back and hurt the kids? I don’t know what I would do if anything happened to them,” she said and started crying again, as Jerry comforted her.
“Remember they went to the ball game. Don’t worry about them.” Jerry comforted her. “A murderer is loose in our town, and you never know where he might strike next,” she said as tears poured down her face. “The children will be fine,” Jerry assured her. Weeping, Marlene asked, “When they come in, will you tell them about Mom?” “Honey, go on upstairs and get ready for bed. I’ll wait up for the kids,” Jerry said.
Entering the house, with one glimpse of their dad, Mark and Ashley knew something was wrong, Ashley asked, “What is

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