At lunch one day she leapt to my ear, whispered, "Oh my God, there's the boy whose baby I killed!", jumped up to shake hands with an unattractive frat-boy type who seemed shocked to see her there.
© 2002-2017 Mark Phillips.
All rights reserved.
This writing is fiction. Please don't confuse it with reality.
"Blogging as Cubism" explains.
Published 4/03: Word Riot.
Please comment here, on Facebook.
Thank you for subscribing to my newsletter.