by Ryan Friend
I’m escaping and I’ll bring you, too.
We’ll take their black ship on
sea of gold squeeze. This
monetary distillation, these… 118 more words
266 more words
Instead of pulling the door shut, too, the kid, that Doby Saxon whose mum had married that Yellowtail who didn’t even have an Indian name anymore, he just stood there like he was waiting for permission to come in, waiting for me or Junior to say to him it was ok if he had the snow crusted all over him still, that he could stomp it off in here if he wanted, that we’d mop it up later.