With what was supposed to be his good arm, Len positioned the red leather stool into the curve of the curved bar.
Tag: Mondays Are Murder
“He shot her.”
I watched that little trailer for three days and nights until I knew the old man’s routine. And, the whole time I couldn’t stop wondering how somebody like him ended up in a place like this.
Papa was confused when he woke up, and rightfully so.
Steps creak and strange knocking sounds float to my apartment from the basement, and the cat refuses to go downstairs after dark. You can’t blame him, given what happened here.
If you stand in the Newnes glowworm tunnel, you can almost hear the old steam locos roaring through.
The coyote pups have got bold, come right beside the porch near sundown. Gives me someone to talk to, I suppose.
From the starting gun, the 400-meter dash looked all wrong.