Malcolm stopped where he was, half in and half out of the drive way. He looked at the car, it was pretty nice, nicer than his.
Where did Lizzie get the money?
He wondered if that car didn’t belong to someone else…? Was someone else taking up his space? In the drive way? In Lizzie’s life?
He wasn’t going to knock. He was going right up on to the porch and enter. He still had his key.
The lock had been changed.
Then, a woman he had never seen was suddenly standing there; “What are you doing?” she said in a loud sharp voice.
“Who are you?” he exclaimed.
“I could say the same thing. What are you doing at my house?”
“Your house? This is my house?”
A man came into view.
“What’s the problem?” he said as if he he was dying to spill some blood.