Where's my crazy girl? Think this fancy place is hers? Maybe she's doing a lot better with that do-gooder nonsense than I thought . . ."He had finally made it to the bedroom door. He froze, the tableau hardly better for my having stood up in my dishabille.Daddy's gaze seemed to flay me where I st...
I stared at the unencumbered gate for a very long time. I could almost imagine that I’d forgotten where I locked it, if not for the neatly printed note an officer had left on the fence where my bicycle had once rested. Bicycle, color rust and black, confiscated by the New York Police Department. ...
