Drama Dolls: A Novel: [Dark, Suspenseful, Fast-paced, Exhilarating] by Jason Tanamor

second wind hit. Emily’s uniform and mask were in a pile on the floor as she slept curled up into a ball. With the mess of scattered clothing, Jeffrey’s body energized, he started to clean. Nobody should see the room in that state.
    Kicking underwear under the bed, tossing shirts into dressers, the area slowly came together. Pulling out a broom and dustpan, sweeping around the corners of the room, the pan collected dirt and random flies’ corpses. Cleaning the room put Jeffrey at ease. Bringing it back to how She liked it was always the goal when he cleaned.
    Moving around the house, the broom pushed up against the walls, the dust piling into little hills, the widower swept the entire perimeter. Combining the dirt together and brushing them into the dust pan, the filth led him down the staircase.
    Each stair, and in between each spindle, was brushed until the debris disappeared into the pan. Working the brush around the main floor’s border, mountains of muck contained dirty piles of hair, random bobby pins, and earring backs from previous heists. Sweeping alone, the house’s appearance improved drastically.
    A necklace swept out from underneath the love seat sparkled in the dirt. Stopping to pick it up, holding it up to the lamp’s glow, the charm glass locket blinded Jeffrey.
    Blowing off the strands of hair and dust, he placed the necklet on the end table.
    Stepping back, Jeffrey howled. “Ahh!” Lifting his foot behind him, an indent in his skin, Jeffrey scanned the floor to see the lost earring back from earlier. He cupped the back in his palm and then continued the task of cleaning the entire house before Emily woke up.
    Once he finished with the sweeping, the floor’s coating appeared bland from the broom’s bristles. Grabbing a bucket and filling it with warm water and white vinegar, Jeffrey dropped in a mop to dampen it. Wringing it dry, the water drops playing a melody into the puddle, he stopped short.
    Above him, the phone rang until the machine picked up. Jeffrey waited for a voice. “Hey there,” Lena’s disembodied voice said. “I just wanted to see if everything was OK.” There was a slight pause. Jeffrey, walking closer to the voice, heard the message continue. “Anyway, hope all is well. Call me if you want.”
     
    A block away from Jeffrey’s house, sitting in her car in a gas station parking lot, Lena stared at the outgoing phone call to her friend. The call register blinked at thirty seconds, the duration of the call going to voicemail. Worried that William was right, she justified her action by relating her own experience with losing a spouse.
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    After the truth hit Lena, her venture into the real world was challenging. Unable to find a job that paid enough to support her lifestyle, she phoned a financial advisor to talk about her options. Losing her husband was tough, but living through the aftermath was a harsher reality.
    Waiting on tables for less than a meal’s tip, she could not afford the life she had built with her husband. Parts of her felt worthless for even letting her life get to that point. But, as the group leader of bereavement once told her, “Something drastic always has to happen for you to change your habits.” Lena just did not believe that her husband’s death was the drastic event looming around the corner.
    Dropping her head down to her chest, dressed head to toe in cheerleading attire, she began to feel sorry for herself. Meeting Jeffrey had allowed her to move on. Jeffrey meeting William had allowed him to move on. They all needed each other to save themselves from being alone, being discarded again from the “normalcy” of society.
    A cop tapping the car window with his knuckle startled Lena back to reality.
    The green glow of the shelter above the gas pumps blinding her, she rolled down the window to address the officer.
    The flashlight shining in her face, she squinted from the circle of light.
    “Ma’am,” the police official said. “The