Imperfect Strangers
How well do you know the people you see every day? Sally hardly knows Keith. They're practically strangers until the day she smiles at him. Would you smile so readily if you risked losing your friends? Would you smile so readily if you risked losing your life? Unfortunately, you can’t begin to know a person until you let them in. Imperfect Strangers: A psychological thriller that simmers to a dark and dramatic climax. Available as both paperback and ebook. |
Opening of Imperfect Strangers
It’s just an office chair, but it’s her chair, and as I press my nose into the fabric and sniff I imagine the possibility of being with Sally. A ridiculous notion, but with her smell inside me – perfume, shampoo, possibly a hint of her sex – I feel intoxicated and sigh as I curl into the seat.
Loneliness has led me to this, but what excuse is that to lighten the weight of guilt when I’ve been lonely all my life. A quick glance into the dimly lit corridor boosts me with the reasoning that no one else is going to know. I fixed the cameras. Besides, I’m only going to look. No harm in that. I’ve gone to a lot of trouble for this, so why shouldn’t I? So what if I’m only supposed to enter the offices in an emergency. Patrol the floors. Punch the card on each level. Go back to the front desk. Wait for two mind-numbing hours, haunted by the creaks and groans of this empty building, before doing it over again, several times each night.
I don’t feel as if I could stop myself anyway. Not now. I’m beguiled by the scent she’s left behind, and I want... No! I need more. It’s a craving, I imagine, that is not dissimilar to an alcoholic’s need of a drink following the sniff of a cork.
It’s just an office chair, but it’s her chair, and as I press my nose into the fabric and sniff I imagine the possibility of being with Sally. A ridiculous notion, but with her smell inside me – perfume, shampoo, possibly a hint of her sex – I feel intoxicated and sigh as I curl into the seat.
Loneliness has led me to this, but what excuse is that to lighten the weight of guilt when I’ve been lonely all my life. A quick glance into the dimly lit corridor boosts me with the reasoning that no one else is going to know. I fixed the cameras. Besides, I’m only going to look. No harm in that. I’ve gone to a lot of trouble for this, so why shouldn’t I? So what if I’m only supposed to enter the offices in an emergency. Patrol the floors. Punch the card on each level. Go back to the front desk. Wait for two mind-numbing hours, haunted by the creaks and groans of this empty building, before doing it over again, several times each night.
I don’t feel as if I could stop myself anyway. Not now. I’m beguiled by the scent she’s left behind, and I want... No! I need more. It’s a craving, I imagine, that is not dissimilar to an alcoholic’s need of a drink following the sniff of a cork.
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