The Princies

Carolyn Wilke “This can’t be right,” Her voice became shriller with every word.  “This is a mistake. I’m a good person. A Christian!” The man behind the desk smiled serenely, as if he was watching waves crash on the beach, and not an increasingly agitated mom-of-two shift in an uncomfortable wooden chair. The pen in his hand tapped absently at the file in front of him. “No ma’am, we’re quite sure.” Cynthia’s jaw went tight. She focused her attention on anything but the reflection off the case worker’s bald head. “I’d like to speak with your manager.” —- Her resolve plummeted as the manager stepped into the little room. Until now, she could have believed she was simply there to switch her car insurance, trying to save a few dollars for that cruise to Cancun. But the manager who strode over to her chair, confidently offering a hand to shake, was bright crimson. Two little horns curved out of his

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