Reflected in the steel above, I watch the red line widen as he traces the scalpel from my navel to between my breasts. I tense as the sting turns from blister hot to icy cold; but I won’t scream, denying him that final satisfaction.
Photo by quinn.anya
Mary had a disgruntled little lamb
Hugh pressed the ‘check mail’ button again and the little closed envelop popped up, taunting him with its secrets.
“Goddam it,” Rita O’Neill said as she let the curtains slide back into place.
I’m not a religious man, but sitting at head of the table where my grandfather would have normally sit, I looked around to my rarely-assembled family, all ea...
