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.
The men rushed toward the open door. “Not so fast, fuck-os,” she said. Annie was a small woman, no more than five-foot-three with most of her weight in her disproportionate breasts, of which she often complained gave her backaches.