“Tommyyyyyyy,” hollered the housekeeper from the front door.
“Stop ya bellowin’,” his boots echoed on the wooden floorboards. “What, woman?”
“This came in the mail, got proper paperwork ‘n everythin’.” She passed the envelope and pointed outside.
Tommy opened the packet, his eyes darted across the pages, then flicked to the open doorway. His frown deepened as his jaw locked tight.
“What’s it say?”
He cleared his throat, licked his lips, and stepped forwards, mumbling, “It’s time to stop being the villain of this tale.”
“What does that mean?”
“What do you have to say for yourself, boy?”
(image by John Stokes, courtesy of Pinterest)