Religion In Pirate's Wells (Short Story) Part 4b
Sophie fix’ on me with her dark, kind eyes; her strong hands take hold of me and pull me into her arms. Sophie smell like soap and sweat and everything good ‘bout a kitchen. She smell like a home should smell, like most of her long burdensome days are happy ones. She lay my aching head on her chest, and she hold me like I never let her do when I got the news ‘bout Franklin boat turnin’ up. Her song take’ me back to that night. Her arms and her smell and the dark compassion shining wet and hot in... Sign in to see full entry.