Glaring. Smirking.He pulls out his knife. Karajan wants specifics.The thought of his hands and shoulders and his knife brings me closer.... “Kara...an, I mean it. I love you! I don’t know what you’re talking about!”Karajan grabs my throat with with left hand and squeezes like he means it this time. The knife he is holding in his right hand punctures my throat. He is going through with it. I am about to die, I know it. “Yes! I deserve it!” I try to say, but no sound comes out. The. "Yes, and I appreciate it... my dear," he emphasized the last part.She eased upon hearing it, her hip cocking to one side and her posture relaxing slightly as the tension left her body."Well, I picked up this," she held out the bag, "and guess what?"He said nothing."Well, I go and find out you've been telling me lies. Me, who has cooked and ironed for you."He looked at the woman in front of him dressed in his late wife's Linda's clothes; they hung too big from her petite blonde frame."Did you. More

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