Sandra Hoover

“Reyes. Alexander. Farrow," I said.

Seconds after I spoke his name, Reyes walked into his bedroom, and I looked across the open space directly from my room into his.

He waited for me to continue.

"I feel like there's something missing from my bedroom."

A dimple appeared at the corner of his mouth. "You don't say."

"Any idea what that might be?"

He glanced around my room as well, then shrugged. "I can't imagine."

"Oh, wait," I said, stepping from my room into his, "wasn't there something here? Like, I don't know, a wall or something?"

He looked up. "You could be right. I do seem to remember a barrier of some kind here."

"Yep," I said, stepping closer, "I definitely remember a partition separating our apartments." When his only response was a mischievous tilt of his full mouth, I asked, "Where did you put my wall?"

He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against his doorframe. "What makes you think I took it?"

"It was there this morning."

"And that means I took it? Maybe you just misplaced it. Where exactly did you see it last?"

I pressed my lips together. "You tore down my wall."

The smile he wore could've charmed the panties off a nun. Completely unrepentant, he admitted, "I tore down your wall.”
― Darynda Jones, Sixth Grave on the Edge