He was jealous of them, of the immigrants, of their boldness, their adventures, but he wouldn’t admit it, and he looked at them and they looked at him, and the space in-between was trapped in guilt, his and theirs.… more
The guys have always given me shit for being good with the ladies, nicknaming me Old Yeller because I’m a stray, which is the only thing they think I could have on them. They say I milk the orphan thing, get the honeys to feel sorry for me.
“Carnage, anyone?” asked Dina as she approached with the Fairchild’s remnants.
or your choice… more