When the love of your life leaves you, all you can do is go fishing. Just make sure you have the right bait.
Category: Short Story
She greeted me with wide blue eyes and opened red lips. I figured her out as easily as two plus two. She sat at the bar on a backless stool wearing a backless black dress, her head turned towards me while her body leaned into the bar, a half-empty whisky glass in one hand, a nearly spent cigarette in the other, and her dark hair haloed by gray smoke.
Don't worry about where you've been or where you're going. Worry about where you are.
It was Hamish’s choice to become a skinner; but, choices have consequences. The last memory he had of his little Elise was her pouty cherry lips saying “Ba-ba, Da.”
Trevor looked into Sydney's eyes, but his peripheral vision was zeroed in on Sydney's small but well contoured and shapely bust. "Do I know you?" Trevor said.
She shrugged. "Whatever flips your switch, Jack." She stood, reached behind her and pulled down the dress's zipper. She held the dress in place and stared hard at him. "You didn't turn into some freako psycho, didja?"
When he had heard the secret word for the Second Coming, Mr. Jesus ran up the street and to the walkway leading to the small house where the strange woman lived.
Lila had played the sycophant, but this only angered Frank, and Harriet had screamed at her that they didn’t need a groupie.