Even after three days, Freedah didn’t feel like washing her ass. She’d been dumped like a bag of shit while Henry planned marriage to some other woman. In two days coming, the wedding would take place at her own church home, where folk talked shit secretly and faked pity in her face.
“That no good bastard,” one woman told her. “The Lord ain’t blessing him in the long run.”
Freedah didn’t care about no blessings or the Lord. Her heart and pride were broken. She counted the days ‘til wedding time, crying in between, with a .45 under her pillow.