PROSE
A waitress stands outside, grabbing a smoke. She was three pats and a wink away from paying her light bill, but if that red fat-faced fuck touched her one more time, she’d scream.
A waitress stands outside, grabbing a smoke. She was three pats and a wink away from paying her light bill, but if that red fat-faced fuck touched her one more time, she’d scream.
Mangus Khan 