hit you.”
Not even “Please.”
You know me.
As if that helped.
As if the years of private cruelty, the rehearsed charm, the hand at my elbow, the balcony door clicking shut, the smug little corrections and calculated gifts and tonight, the slap, as if all that was some secret evidence in his favor.
I took a napkin from the table and blotted the corner of continue reading …
