JP: Name, please.
A: Sabrina. DeWitte. Capital “W.”
Q: How’d you get to Pagosa Springs?
A: It’s all so sordid. But we’re Americans. That’s how we do things.
Q: Sordid? Tell me. I’m an American.
A: My husband. He loved this place. He retired early and I came with him.
Q: You look far too young to retire. What was it, dot-com money?
A: No. Not that. I don’t know where he got his money. He was secretive about that. I suspect it wasn’t entirely legal. But I was coming off a failed first marriage and he scooped me up like a broken bird and I married him, even though he was only a year younger than my father.
Q: So you’re …
A: Thirty-five.
Q: And he’s …
A: Dead. A tree up on Wolf Creek killed him. He liked to ski fast.
Q: So, tragedy for you? Relief?
A: Ahh, yes, well. A relief. He wasn’t a good man to me. After he rescued me he thought he owned me. Like a slave. Or a prostitute.
Q: Ever think about killing him?
A: Every waking moment.
Q: Was it really a tree?
A: I don’t think I should be talking to you without my attorney.
Would you ever ask someone in real life that you didn’t know well, if they ever thought of killing their spouse? And would you expect a straight answer if you did?
Of course I would never ask anyone in real life that question. But that’s not the point. The point is I created this character! She is mine! I made her, and there she sits telling me she wants to talk to her lawyer? No. Reject of a character. Unless she comes back to the table with something really, really good, she’s outta here.
Love it, Jeff! Sounds like a fun read!
Sometimes I think the people in my head are crazy.