Ken wanted to be clean and neat, not smelly.So Ken's pick-up truck sped down the road toward the localhardware store. Behind the wheel was the 6'2", h...ndsomeKen. Ken was a construction worker, but this upcominginterview might improve his status. The sun was setting onthe summer day. The store would close pretty soon. Ken ranhis hand through his short, blonde hair. This was gettingmore and more irritating. Not only did he have to go out onthis task, he had to hurry too.Luck seemed to be against. They lived less than a half hour away in Kendall Lakes where we grew up.Our home, it was their house, having been great-grandma’s before she went to meet Jesus two years ago. Either or both of us could have made it appear that we slept in separate beds, in separate rooms. Neither of us did. Maybe it was us growing up and not being willing to hide our love for each other anymore.What was in my admittedly highly biased opinion mom’s and to a degree dad’s fault was something they should truly be. *I knew that Brenda often had women her own age going round. I knew because she lived nearby and I’d seen them on Saturday afternoons. I imagined that they were a kind of secret lesbian group.I imagined that I'd go round on Saturday afternoon when they were meeting and offer to waitress for her again like I needed some pocket money and she'd ask me what I was prepared to do, and I'd say whatever she wanted. But I'd be in t-shirt and jeans, not in waitress gear, and she'd be all strict and say. She stood in front of him with her hands on her hips. "If you won't kill the man who murdered my sister, I will. You can stay here and wallow in your self loathing." Rachel turned and stormed away. She ran up to hers and Vlad's room and removed the double barrel shotgun that Vlad kept on top of their wardrobe. She loaded it up and left the room. Before she could get to the front door she felt a hand grab her arm. She looked back and saw Vlad with a stern look on his face. "Let me go Vlad!" She.