Teacher, land steward, and fan of all things vintage.
I hear them break the silence. Gravel-dragging footsteps. I could distinguish the steps were not my brothers, because his thrift-store sneakers were planted just at the end of the hole we were digging. As I stood up and swung around, the tingling of my left foot told me I’d been squatting for too long.
By Kate C3 years ago in Criminal
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