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Come visit Miriam in first century CE Alexandria.
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Come to Miriam’s Alexandria, a first century city second only to Rome.
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Venture with Miriam into the claustrophobic underbelly of Alexandria at night.
![](https://static.wixstatic.com/media/a0b915_86bafcdae25248219c4e2ff335c291b7~mv2.jpg/v1/fill/w_121,h_79,al_c,q_80,usm_0.66_1.00_0.01,blur_2,enc_auto/a0b915_86bafcdae25248219c4e2ff335c291b7~mv2.jpg)
Come visit Miriam in first century CE Alexandria.
![](https://static.wixstatic.com/media/b5583b_061e477ff1da486194ce988d97f2f38d.jpg/v1/fill/w_107,h_116,al_c,q_80,usm_0.66_1.00_0.01,enc_auto/b5583b_061e477ff1da486194ce988d97f2f38d.jpg)
the MIRIAM BAT ISAAC
Mystery Series
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June Trop
Welcomes you to
June’s Contemporary Story of Psychological Horror
THE HUNCH
“The Hunch” is a story of psychological horror set in our time just outside New York City.​ It is about a wife's hunch that her husband has been unfaithful to her. I’m sure you’ll understand that more than a hunch, she needs to find out for sure.
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Get a Head Start on the Story Here:
THE HUNCH
I had a hunch the bastard was cheating on me. But our hours were so different, how could I know for sure? What with him a mail sorter on the night shift and me a teacher at the local middle school. And I couldn’t tell by the money. He never forked over his paycheck, just what he had left at the end of the pay period. Of course, he had expenses too: gassing up the car, haircuts, lunches—what he called his “walking around money.” And then “his obligation,” the child support for the brat I didn’t know about when we got married. And wouldn’t you know it? This month, he said, the kid wanted a set of drums.
But I had enough of a hunch from the gifts he brought home at Christmas, from his co-workers, he said. I’m talking cashmere sweaters just the right size and Clive Christian perfume, whatever that stink was. Certainly nothing I’d’ve bought. That was the year he gave me a dented cutting board, not even wrapped.
Since I couldn’t be sure, why stir up his temper? He had one, you know. Like his idol, Muhammad Ali, he had fast fists, but their sting was worse than a bee’s. I know, but I guess I got what I wanted, the handsomest guy I ever saw, that manly, square-jawed kind of handsome; that stop-traffic-dead-on-the-street kind with dimples, curly black hair, and smooth, easy-going manners. Let’s face it: I fell for him. We eloped after six weeks of athletic sex.
But all that holding-my-tongue business changed when I encountered blabber-mouth Helen in the Market Delight dairy aisle.
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See whether you can figure out how to she got a fix on the truth. And what she did about it.
To find out more, click here.
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