Red Brick Door - A Fiction
A yellow jail issue scrub shirt, her hands, the deft fingers lithe with clean short nails, were cuffed in front- my mind recalled a christ-like figure.
A yellow jail issue scrub shirt, her hands, the deft fingers lithe with clean short nails, were cuffed in front- my mind recalled a christ-like figure.
America has always sold itself like a potluck dinner—“Bring your culture! Bring your grandma’s recipes! Bring the funky spices we can pretend we invented!”