No one was supposed to find out
who you really are. You were a
plant, a spy, meant to keep
tabs on my daughter. Now you
lie on a cold metal table in
a morgue. I don't have to
ask how you ended up here-
no doubt you fell preyto
my daughter's charms and
she sniffed you out. Shame.
But I can't look back. No,
I need a new plant.
Something more...robust.
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My name is Monica and I am a writer. This is my little corner of the net, along with my MySpace and Twitter. I'm not sure of my writing goals; I'm just trying to get it all out.
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