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A Short Story : A Story?

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“I’m sorry about your mother. Do they know what happened?” Margaret asked as Andrew sat down on the sofa.
“A neighbor found her this morning,” Marlene said, tears filling her eyes.
“Where are the kids?” Andrew asked. “Son, do you know anyone who would want to hurt your family? I worry about Mark and Ashley’s safety if they murdered Katherine in her house. My Lord, they might hurt the rest of the family,” Andrew said.
“Don’t worry about the kids, they’re with friends,” Jerry said.
“Jerry, there is a murderer out there, and you don’t know where he might strike next. They must be careful,” Margaret said. “The children will be fine,” Jerry assured her.
Weeping, Marlene asked, “When they come in, will you tell them about Mom? Every time I think about her, I start crying.”
“Honey, go on upstairs and get ready for bed, I don’t think Mom and Dad will mind. You’ve had a rough day. I’ll wait up for the kids.”
“I’ll wait a while, longer,” Marlene said going into the pantry to get a box of tissues. “Have you called your sister?” Andrew asked as if he was feeling guilty for not telling her about things in the past. “She should know about Katherine. After all, Stephanie always liked her.”
“I haven’t had a chance to call her,” Jerry said, noticing Marlene weeping again and went over to comfort her.
“We’ll call her for you,” Andrew said.
“There’s no need calling her,” Margaret snapped, “She probably won’t miss work to come home. She thinks no one else except herself.”

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