Clara was visibly upset as she sulked down the stairs.

“Okay, what’s up?” I asked, turning in my chair to face her.

“Oh, I just don’t like mom’s audiobook.” She motioned over her shoulder towards the kitchen where I could hear a book being read while my wife banged around with dishes.

“That’s okay,” I said. “You don’t have to like it. You were supposed to be upstairs cleaning your room anyway.”

She ignored this fact. “They are just always the same thing.”

“The stories?”

“Yeah. They’re all about… you know,” she waved a hand to her left, “Husbands and…” she waved to her right, “…and Murder.” She sighed and fell back into an armchair. “And that’s all. Just someone getting married and someone getting killed.”

I nodded. “Okay. Cool. Sounds like some interesting books actually”

She didn’t respond. Instead, she stared out the window for a few moments. Finally, she said, “Although, it does kind of make me want to write a book of my own someday.”

“Oh really? About Husbands and murder?”

She smirked and two sinister eyes drifted around the room before falling on me. “Well. I’m not going to give it away NOW am I? You’ll just have to read it.”