Haunting Past
Intisar shut down her laptop, picked up her jacket and tucked a stray wisp of curly brown hair into her scarf. Picking up her bag, she walked to the door of her office and shut the light as she left. “Leaving for the day, boss?” said a young writer Intisar recognized as Julia. “Yes, Julia. When are you heading home?” “Oh, not for a while. You assigned me that that story about the Richardson house, remember? Deadline’s next week.” “Oh, yes! How is that coming?” “Pretty good, actually. I...
