The Blackened Odds by Mark Twain 3

 

Chapter 3 

The next morning, Vivian’s Instagram blew up my phone. 

She was wearing designer heels, the needle point of one pressed into Mom’s portrait. The frame was 

cracked, Mom’s face warped under the stiletto. 

The caption read: [Out with the old trash. Only room for the best.] She’d tagged me in it. 

The