The sun hung low in the west.
The setting sun burned like fire, painting the sky in bold, inky strokes of blood-red. The cicadas of early autumn shrieked themselves hoarse, as if expending their last ounce of strength to ratchet up the suffocating tension.
Meanwhile, Shayla Talbot had already begun her "indictment" of Sydney Sawyer's terrible deeds.
"Mom, Dad, Mr. Lockwood... I was just coming out to take out the trash when I ran into her and a child. They accused me of kicking a cat, and then they hit me without even letting me explain."
She covered her face, tears streaming down her cheeks as she spoke, her voice choked with heart-wrenching sobs.
"I told her over and over that I hadn't seen any cat, but she refused to believe me."
"I told her lost cats usually come back, and that if she really couldn't find it, I'd be happy to give her a new one. I just wanted her to calm down and not be so anxious."
...
Shayla Talbot looked utterly aggrieved.
