The cellphone’s shrill tone interrupted Sylvia’s thoughts as she drove down the highway on her route to work. Punching the bluetooth button, she said, ‘Hey honey. What’s up? I’m in the middle of the most god-awful traffic on I-70.’
There was a silence of three seconds before she heard Dave’s voice over the line. ‘Sylvia, have I told you how much I love you?’
Her laugh rang out when she said, ‘Not lately. You have to tell me more often.’
Dave’s voice sounded upbeat and unsually chirpy. ‘I realised we never had a code word for our secrets. You know, when you talk about stuff in front of strangers and you don’t want them to know.’
Sylvia sounded puzzled, ‘So, you wanna make some up?Now? Can’t this wait till I’m back from work, hon?’
He replied, ‘Sure, it can. But just remember, code for love is red.’
Ending the call, Sylvia brooded for a few seconds over the weird call and then put it out of her mind. She’d recall it all that evening when she walked in the door.
Dave greeted her with red, all right. The red colour of his blood had left splatters all over the kitchen floor and even soaked the gun in his right hand.
*Confused? Go here to read my post for ‘L’ this month to know more about the story.
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