Religion In Pirate's Wells (Short Story) Part 1b
Darrel slide his fat self over to me, thumbs in his belt. “Corn lookin’ fine I must say, comin’ along good?” “Umhum.” I say. Put my hands on my hips and stretch out my back, where it’s tight from bending low all morning. Bastard most pop his eyes out they sockets looking at my breasts rise. Me and Franklin never had any children, never had a reason to lose the shape I brought to the island, the shape he admired so much that first day. “Lord knows you women work hard enough. Guess we ga’ have a... Sign in to see full entry.