The Good-Bye Garden: Part Four

VII              “You horse’s arse!”             For the first time in two years this pretty little thing and I were standing face-to-face, and she wasted no time making with the insults. There wasn’t much delay, either, in the way her cupped hand drew back, like a reflex, and slapped holy hell out of my gob.Continue reading “The Good-Bye Garden: Part Four”