"A Good Man is Hard to Find" Reaction

Wow! This story starts off  with a hectic family trip, which was interrupted by a detour to a plantation. It turns out the plantation was not where the grandmother had thought and they wrecked the car. I had a feeling the  misfit would show up somewhere in the story, because the author gives a brief forshadowing of the criminal on the loose. I was not however expecting all of the family members to die. I was hoping the grandmother would be able to talk them out of killing the family. But unfortunately the criminals shot and killed all of the family members. This was a depressing story, but had twists and turns which kept me interested!

London

“Move you bloody girl!!” a British man yelled while honking his cab horn. She brushed her hair behind her ear and kept walking at her natural pace crossing the streets of South Kensington once again, breathing in the frigid evening air.

The only sounds heard are her high heels clanging on the brick sidewalk and a few cars breezing past, hitting a puddle of water, every now and again. Her hands are frozen in the pockets of her poufy jacket, while little mists of raindrops lightly brush her pale face.

This is the life she had always wanted. Besides the overly mean taxi drivers, she loves the rush of London, the diverse array of people, the amazing history, even the insanity of trying to stuff herself on the overcrowded Tube at 6am. She had the world in her hands; an American, fresh out of college with an amazing job, but unhappiness subtly creeps its way back into her life, when she is alone.

Her memory kept repeating Patrick’s number in her head “281-772-5…., I am going to call Patrick tonight and apologize.”

She got off work at the normal time, but somehow scurried home 10 minutes earlier than usual. She needed to keep her mind occupied while she is in her secluded apartment. She slowly took off her hat and gradually unbuttoned her coat. Her heart pounded because thoughts of him were starting to return. Work made it easy to forget about him, but at night the unhappiness returns.

Her fingers undo her wavy blonde hair while her blue eyes stared at her silhouette in the hallway mirror, eyeing her bright green dress, draped over her fatigued body. This dress she wore in Paris, when they shared passionate kisses and a bottle of wine, by the Eiffel Tower, last New Year’s Day. Her face shines bright remembering him romantically saying, “This is how I want to live my life, you and me forever. Je t’aime.”

She feels the cold cell phone in her hand and started to dial the numbers.