“You’d think an artist could come up with a more creative excuse.” Emma drummed her fingers on the neck of her bottle. The tinkling sounded like a music box lullaby, but it wasn’t soothing her. How many beers had she drunk so far? Five or six, maybe seven. Apparently complete humiliation canceled out the ability […]
There is something about words. In expert hands, manipulated deftly, they take you prisoner. Wind themselves around your limbs like spider silk, and when you are so enthralled you cannot move, they pierce your skin, enter your blood, numb your thoughts. Inside you they work their magic.