The Lady of Feathers
The lady shakes herself, repositioning the delicate coat upon her tense shoulders, her beady eyes ravenously scanning her immediate surroundings. She is hungry. The food, the promised food, has not come.
Tagged: Garrett Lamarck
On December Twelfth and February Twenty-Eighth
It was winter when we basked in the lights; when we took our chances on the tightrope. I wasn’t there when it snapped.
